Thursday, February 25, 2016
As I was posting the first one yesterday, I realized I'd written one a month ago already. This one is slightly different, slightly longer, slightly more telling not showing. Neither are quire perfect, but I'd like to know which one you prefer.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
A fragment that I have failed to keep really short, depicting a scene from (some) family life. It will probably push some wrong buttons with some folks, as the hero is joined by his father, but what can we do? The end may seem a bit forced, but I was anxious to wrap it up quickly.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Chapter 22: What price victory? A sissy cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs...
With Suzy pacified there was no more dissent and things went back to normal, relatively speaking, settling into something of a routine. Classes in the morning and much of the afternoon, followed by free time that we spent doing homework or just relax a bit. And planning and executing our assignments, of course.
I did my best to be the epitome of submissive ultra-femininity to impress my teachers and score merits. It was hard work as they were not easy to please. Every day I would be on the receiving end of three or four disciplinary measures.
Each morning I experienced the utter terror of watching the minotaur with the gargantuan paddle step into my room for inspection. Occasionally she was completely satisfied and I'd live to mince another day. Sometimes she would find a flaw in my appearance and she would place me on all fours. As she'd spank me I was to kick and squeal and wiggle as she had come to expect of me.
Most trouble I got was because of my classmates. I kept my room in good order, but every now and then my tutor would find a flaw that one of them must have planted there. I regularly checked the contents of my room to prevent these treacherous actions. Occasionally I was lucky and found something that was missing or did not belong there, which I would duly report to Miss Ochsenhorn during inspection. Otherwise she would immediately go to my closet, drawer or bed to point out what I had missed. A paddling would then follow.
But that was not the only way they crossed me. None of my classmates told me one of my seams was crooked, but one of them had reported me to Big Sister, as Frau Ochsenhorn merrily pointed out before spanking me. Must have been Tiffany!
And to add insult to injury, these spanking sessions forced me to spend merits at an alarming rate. I had to go above and beyond my best behaviour just to keep my TV privileges.
But I did not let my fellow novices get away with this, of course. I managed to steal some panties from Alice's room, reported Tiffany for making doodles during class and told Big Sister of Suzy's rude gesture. Gaining merits while getting even on my treacherous classmates? Score!
I tried to spare Daniëlle as best I could, but sometimes I was forced to involve her as well. So regrettably I had to tell Big Sister that she'd clearly forgotten to shave her legs that morning. Of course, everyone could see that. She'd eventually be reported anyway. Now her friend would get a merit out of it, at least. I'm sure she would have done the same.
With all this going on, nobody trusted anyone else anymore. Did someone really go to the toilet, or did she sneak out on some foul purpose? Should I perhaps follow her? Would someone else take advantage of my absence to slip into my room? So it was no wonder people were being sassy, spiteful or mean with one another. Arguments were a frequent occurrence.
In between all this even my relationship with Daniëlle had been tainted. During the fight that Suzy had stirred up, we both had said things that could never be taken back completely. The fact she went behind my back to report a smudge on my dress did not help either.
Still, despite these challenges our deeper bond remained impregnable. She didn't offer me whiskey a second time, but that was fine. It was enough that she had trusted me with a secret and, so help me, I would keep it safe for her. So when I received the assignment 'give away a secret of Daniëlle’s to earn three merits', I tore the paper in pieces and threw them away. The only time I ever did that.
Speaking of time, I kind of lost track how long I've been down here, nor did I have any idea how much longer this 'novice' phase would last. Was it days? Weeks? The teachers wouldn't tell us. 'Don't you worry your pretty little mind on that, girl. Just focus on your studies,' they'd say. When I tried to press the issue, all I got was a flogging for talking back.
So I just did as I was told. Be a good sissy, do my homework and perform my assignments for extra credit.
Every day we had classes in household chores, which we then put into practice cleaning the novice wing. Right now we were assigned the common area. I was dusting while the other girls had their own chores.
“Hey, I just cleaned that!” Tiffany called out.
“What?” I replied, holding the duster with which I swiped the furniture.
“I just wiped the floor,” she said while holding a broomstick. “You're getting dust all over it.”
“Then wipe it again. I need to clean this,” I said, pointing at the windowsill of the false window.
“Your dust, your responsibility. Wipe it yourself.”
“You should've waited until I was done. Your mistake, so you clean it.”
“Would the two of you just be quiet?”
“Oh, hi, Daniëlle, done with the tables already?” Tiffany snarked “Whoopsy, you've missed a spot. Guess not.”
“Hey, don't you talk to her like that, fuzzyfrocks!” I cried.
“Miss Big Sister?! They are fighting again!”
“Eat me, Alice!”
“...And Daniëlle is having a potty mouth!”
A loud beep came from a speaker. Then a voice. “Silence, all of you! Stand at attention! Good... Now then, it seems there is some animosity between you girls. You need to learn to work together. I have just the thing. Wait right there, don't move.”
A moment later several tutors entered the lounge, who rounded us up and placed us in a line.
We were standing at attention, but I couldn't suppress the shudder when they took out several chains and shackles.
My tutor stood in front of me, and I couldn't suppress a soft yelp when she grabbed my right hand and locked a metal cuff around it. Another tutor behind me snapped another shut around my right ankle.
To my surprise, Frau Ochsenhorn did not grab my other hand. She took Tiffany's left hand instead.
“Huh?” She said as the ogre snapped the cuff shut around her wrist. The other tutor bound her left ankle. Our arms and legs were now connected by chains hardly a foot long. The process was repeated between Daniëlle and Alice. Only Suzy was spared, who was now, ironically, the least bound sissy of our miserable little group.
“Now you will have to work together in your chores,” the ogre growled. “I expect this place to be spotless before two. So get to it, girls.”
The tutors left without another word, leaving us standing there rather baffled.
Daniëlle broke the silence. “...How are we supposed to work like this?” He raised her arm to look at the cuff.
“Hey, don't pull,” Alice shouted, wobbly in her heels in the best of times.
Tiffany stated the rather obvious. “We'll have to move together. Simultaneously.”
“Okay...” I said hesitantly. “How about three steps forward, as practice? Left, right, left.”
“Fine,” Tiffany replied. “On three. One... Two... Three!”
Simultaneously, we moved our feet. Left first, as agreed. Unfortunately, the flaw in our plan became immediately apparent. Her left ankle was chained to my stationary right one...
“Wha...?” Tiffany called out as the taut chain tripped her.
She tried to compensate, but by pulling on my wrist she drew me off-balance instead. “Wait, no!” I cried.
With two simultaneous yelps, Tiffany and I fell down. She hit the ground first, and I fell on top of her.
“Gah!...Oompfh!...Ugh, get of me, you stupid sissy!” I heard Tiffany say.
Two loud thumps followed by a string of recriminations back and forth informed me that Daniëlle and Alice had fared little better. I don't know how this was supposed to sooth the animosity between us. If anything, it had the opposite effect.
After mucking about for a while, which included several other close encounters with the floor, we managed to develop a system. Short and slow steps, with one of the sissies calling left or right foot, while holding hands. It worked well. Occasionally we even managed to cross the room before tripping...
Still, if you think mincing is a slow process, try it while being tied to someone else... Not to mention trying to clean a room in this state. Suffice to say, we were nowhere done when the clock struck two.
“I am very disappointed with you girls,” Frau Ochsenhorn boomed as she walked behind a row of very timid sissies. “I expected more from you. Much more. Surely a lesson in teamwork would let you rise above your petty differences. Clearly I was wrong. You are as worthless as you are pitiful.”
She sighed deeply. “So be it. If working together towards a common goal does not motivate you, then perhaps I should make you responsible for each other's punishment.”
She stepped behind me. Her loud voice blared in my ears. “Tell me Cheryl, did Tiffany perform her duties admirably? Did she work as a valuable member of a team?”
I did not need long to think about that. “No Miss,” I said. “Working with her was a nightmare. She always started on the wrong foot, even when I told her 'My left'. And she couldn't hold the dustpan properly, causing me to spill most of it. And if she had just wiped the floor we wouldn't have needed that lesson in teamwork in the first place!”
“Do you concur, Tiffany?” my tutor asked.
“No Miss!” Tiffany shouted. “It was all her fault. Her instructions were nonsensical, and she couldn't keep tempo. And if she just held the duster like I told her to, she wouldn't have spilled so much of it. But most of all, she wasn't working as a team player when she got dust on my clean floor!”
“I see. So you both think your partner should be punished then?”
“Yes!” we said in unison.
“Very well. I just so happen to have a crop here. How many strikes?”
“Twenty!” I called. “Fifteen!” Tiffany cried.
“Let's make it five instead, but no spending merits. Also, I will not administer the punishment. You will.”
“Miss?” I asked confused.
One of the other tutors stepped in front of me, and with a small key unlocked my wrist cuff, then Tiffany's. Then she removed the ankle chain binding us.
Frau Ochsenhorn stepped up before us, holding out the crop.
“You go first, Cheryl. Take it. Don't be shy, girl. You said Tiffany should be punished, didn't you?”
With curious reluctance I took hold of the handle. It was no bigger than the riding crop I had held during my horse ride with Martina, but is seemed heavier, although that may have been an illusion. A metaphor of the sudden weight of responsibility thrust upon me.
“Two step forward, Tiffany. Now, little girl! Good. Bend forward. More... Hold it like that. Raise your skirt. Go stand over here, Cheryl.”
I did as I was told, standing at Tiffany's left, slightly behind her, the crop in my right hand.
“Grab the handle tight, Cheryl. Stretch out your arm. That's it. Now pull it back. Excellent. Wait for my command...”
I don't know who was more nervous: Tiffany or me.
“One!” my tutor called.
“I said: one!” Frau Ochsenhorn called impatiently.
I guess I swung my arm, as I saw the crop move, but I did not feel it. In slow motion I saw the black stick swing by and strike Tiffany's panty-clad behind, on her right butt-cheek.
I heard Tiffany grunt, an uncomfortable shiver running down her legs.
“Two!” the tutor called.
I reacted more quickly this time, and was more aware of swinging the crop. I hit her panties dead centre.
I didn't expect the sudden cuff around my ear. It didn't really hurt, but it certainly startled me. I almost dropped the crop in dismay.
I looked at Frau Ochsenhorn, who had slapped me. Her frown was very dark. “Stop tickling her, Cheryl. This is supposed to be a punishment. Let her feel it. Now, start again.”
I mumbled a half-hearted 'Yes, Miss', then readied myself again, bracing myself for added power.
“One!” my tutor growled.
I put all my strength behind that swing. I heard a loud 'twack', followed by a pained yelp.
I swung again, hitting her on her bare tight. I could see the crop left a reddish imprint on her leg. Tiffany grunted.
Tiffany wobbled in her heels as I struck her. I heard her gasp loudly.
Tiffany started to sob.
“Five! Well, done Cheryl. Stand straight, Tiffany. It's your turn.”
Tiffany glanced at me as we exchanged places. Her eyes were moist and I could see tears on her cheeks. But through the tears her eyes beamed fire at me.
“Bend over, Cheryl. Raise your skirt. Ready, Tiffany?
“Oh, yeah...” she said menacingly.
The crop struck me like a bolt of lightning. I yelped like a puppy.
And another one, fire spreading from my behind. If I had initially been reluctant to hit Tiffany, she clearly did not have the same problem.
“Gah!” I cried. I tried to keep it in, trying not to give her the satisfaction, but I failed.
Now I really was crying. I felt dizzy in my head and unsteady on my heels.
“Five! Excellent. Get up, Cheryl, and get back in line. You too, Tiffany. Hurry now.”
I stumbled back into line. My tutor took the crop and continued to Daniëlle and Alice, who were being unchained as well. Now it was their turn.
I glanced at Tiffany and she looked back. Silently we exchanged insults and curses. You'll pay for this, I thought, as I was sure she thought as well.
That evening I was sitting behind my vanity mirror in my room. I uncomfortably shifted my weight from one butt-cheek to the next, my behind still sore from Tiffany's pummelling.
In front of me was an envelope with my latest assignment. I ripped it open and took out the letter inside.
'For one merit,' it read, 'select one of the following outfits and the classmate that should wear it.'
I had three options. One was the uniform that I had arrived in, with the plain dress and low heels. Simple, comfortable and not too humiliating.
The next one looked rather like the one I was wearing now. With poofy shoulders and a flaring skirt held up by petticoats. The accompanying mary-janes were a respectable three-and-a-half inch. A silly garment in any other setting, but down here it was rather ordinary.
The third one was clearly fetish wear, vaguely reminiscent of a baby dress, but with an empire waist and showing lots of cleavage. The skirt hardly covered the top of the ruffled panties. A bonnet and frilly ankle socks were also listed. The accompanying heels were a towering 4.5 inch with T-strap. I wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing that monstrosity.
But what really set this last one apart were the collar and leash, fluffy handcuffs, pacifier gag and ankle chain that accompanied the outfit. Anyone wearing this would have a really bad day.
I looked at the first outfit. Perhaps I should give it to Daniëlle, I thought. She had looked quite pale after Alice was done with her, and perhaps a rather more comfortable and modest outfit would do her some good. She would still hate it, of course, but the lower heels alone would be beneficial.
I quickly rejected it, though. What I really wanted was to get back at Tiffany, and now I had the perfect opportunity.
I walked over to the display at the side of my bed and presses the green button.
“Yes, Cheryl?” The voice spoke.
“Hello Miss. For my assignment I would like to select the third outfit for Tiffany,” I said with wicked glee.
“Very good. This earns you one merit.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
“You’re welcome. Don't forget, lights out in thirty minutes. Tomorrow, you have a long day ahead of you.”
Not as long as Tiffany, I thought.
The next morning, after a shower cold enough to drive away my fatigue, at least for a moment, my tutor entered my room.
“Miss?” I asked startled. “Is it inspection time already?”
“Of course not, silly girl. I just came by to bring you today's outfit.”
Self-consciously I pulled my bathrobe closer to my otherwise naked body. “Thank you, Miss. But I already prepared my assigned uniform yesterday.”
“There has been a change of plans. You'll wear this instead.” She carried the box she was holding over to my bed. Whistling a catchy tune, she started to unpack it.
I watched with curiosity as she laid out the items, then it turned to dread.
“So, what do you think?” my tutor asked.
I gulped. “That's the outfit I selected yesterday...” I said with a trembling voice.
“Really? You already prepared this outfit?” She gave a low chuckle. “What a coincidence. Well, let’s get you strapped in then.”
I stepped back. “No, no, no. You don't understand! I selected this outfit for Tiffany. For my latest assignment!”
She looked at me with one eyebrow raised. The she simply shrugged. “I see. Well then maybe one of your classmates selected this outfit for you, as part of her assignment.”
“Wha... What?” I stammered.
“Come now, silly girl. You must have considered the possibility that someone else would have the same assignments as you? Someone who doesn't like you very much, for example.”
“Could be. Who knows? But it's a pity, really. You could have selected another outfit. You know, as a sort of peace offering. Make her life a bit easier so that she would stop holding a grudge against you. Then maybe you wouldn't have to wear this outfit. On the plus side: now you'll be an adorable little sissy baby! With your cute tiny dress, baby bonnet, towering heels and sissy bondage! What fun!”
My mouth fell open, but no sound came out of it.
“Just remember, don't add the bonds before you are fully prepared and dressed.” Frau Ochsenhorn continued. “The handcuffs go behind your back, so save them for last.”
I was dumbfounded. I actually had to tie myself up?
My tutor turned towards the door. “I'll be back in half an hour for inspection. I'll expect you to stand at attention in the centre of the room while you wait for me. Try not to disappoint, because I'll be bringing my paddle and today I got a rattlin' for a paddlin'. Tschuss, honey-bunny.”
With a smile she left the room, leaving me alone with the silk monstrosity.
I stood there silently as I looked at my outfit, but my mind was racing. Part of it was developing elaborate but highly unlikely escape plans that could enact in the next five minutes. Another idea was to burst into Daniëlle room, grab her liquor bottle and gulp it all down. I even had the thought to simply refuse wearing it and proclaiming loudly that they couldn't make me, which was probably the most unrealistic idea of them all.
I went over to my vanity table. I had wasted five minutes already. I loathed that outfit, but feared the ogres paddle more. I started applying makeup, making it bright and obvious. With an outfit like that, subtlety would be out of place.
The clock was ticking, so had to rush as I added bright blush, several layers of eye shadow and bright red lipstick. Styling my platinum blonde curls was even trickier, and I needed lotion to vitalise it, then a cream-gel to strengthen the curls.
After a quick look in the mirror, I was satisfied and rushed over to my bed, dropping the bathrobe while I moved.
I picked up my panties first. It had an over-abundance of frills, bows and lace, but otherwise was not out of the ordinary. I stepped into them and pulled them up, feeling the smooth and expensive silk on my skin. At least it feels nice, I thought.
The bra was next. It matched the panties in every single way. Comfortable, but covered in frills that had no function but to make the wearer look excessively girly.
I picked up final piece of underwear, holding it up for a good look. It was a tiny waist corset, but with extensive boning along the circumference. It didn't have lacing or even buckles at the front, only sturdy straps that hinted when placed it would not be easy to remove.
I wrapped the corset around me and closed the straps in front. I pulled them tight as I hold my breath. I kept pulling even when it became rather uncomfortable, since I had learned that Frau Ochsenhorn had a particular dislike for loose corsets.
I put on the petticoats before I turned to the dress. As I held it up, I noticed just how ridiculously short it was. I hesitated, and watched at the clock as if there I could find an excuse not to put it on. The display offered no salvation, merely creeping closer to seven AM. I took a breath as deep as my corset allowed me, and slipped it over my head, careful not to disturb my curly hair.
I stood in front of the vanity mirror to check my dress, fixing a few twists and folds. I gave a good look to the girl wearing the ridiculous dress. My goodness, it was so short! The widely flaring skirt just covered the top of my panties. Now I also understood the elaborate embellishments of my undies, since the frills of the hem of the skirt matched my panties perfectly. Likewise, I noticed how my dress complemented my bra as it peeked through the window of my wide cleavage. Most of the dress' fabric seemed to have gone into the shoulders, which were poofy to the point of parody.
I zipped up my dress at the back, but also needed to buckle up a strap to close it completely. This obviously wasn't quite a locking outfit, but it sure came close.
I had some trouble with the bonnet. The few times I've worn one, Miss Rosenberg's maids had dressed me. Twice did it fall over my eyes after putting it on (which evoked some nasty memories of my week with Miss Rosenberg) before I got it right and tied it below my chin with a pretty bow.
I sat down on the bed as I grabbed the frilly ankle socks. With these I would not have to worry about crooked seams, I thought as I slipped them on.
Next came the shoes with the towering heels. I held them up before me, looking at the long stilettos. A girl could strike oil by walking those into some Arabian desert, I thought.
I slipped one over my right foot, careful not to put any weight on it, and closed the secure T-strap that locked my foot in. Then I put on the other one.
Still sitting on the bed, I turned to the final items that were part of the garment proper: the gloves. Curiously, there were actually two pairs of gloves. One was made of silk with lots of frills at the wrist, which kind of reminded me of the ankle socks. The second pair was shorter, made from pristine white patent leather much like my heels. Thin but rigid, these had to be worn over the first pair. I moved my fingers in their gloves, which the leather tried to resist. I also noticed how the material effectively had numbed the sensitivity of my fingertips.
Finally finished with the outfit itself, I looked at the remaining items. I may have disliked the dress, but the sight of the bonds on my bed was positively nauseating.
I swallowed hard. Tried to think positive thoughts. I had worn worse when I visited Miss Margot, right? That did not make me feel any better...
I picked up the collar first. It was made of thick and wide leather, with a broad strap that buckled in front. There the elaborate metal buckle doubled as an ornament and point for the leash to attach to.
Unable to determine if I wanted to move slowly out of sheer reluctance, or fast due to my increasing lack of time, I fumbled with the collar until managed to place it on my neck and wrap it around. Still not accustomed to the gloves, I managed to secure the buckle more by chance than anything else. Placing the leash was easier, which attached itself with a soft click.
I leaned forward on my bed, bringing the ankle chain towards my legs. This was easy to place, the open cuffs like metal talons that closed around my ankles with a loud snap. For no particular reason I tested the shackles, pulling the foot long chain taut. Obviously, it was very secure.
Unpleasant as these items were, it was nothing compared to the aversion I felt for the pacifier gag. I held it up in front of me, business end forward, and looked at it. Its appearance could be described as silly, or even cute, but it couldn't hide the fact that this was a merciless tool of discipline, subjugation and humiliation. The mere fact I was even contemplating putting it in said something of the power these women held over me. I observed its shape and size. The pacifier looked a lot more phallic than strictly necessary to silence someone. A lot bigger too.
But time was running out, and I had no other options left. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, then opened my mouth. Like it or not, extensive training kicked in, preventing me from simply slipping it in quickly. Instead, I moved my lips over the surface of the penetrator, my tongue tickling and probing the underside. I pushed it in slowly, and not too far before pulling it out slightly. Then I pushed a bit deeper before repeating the process. After four or five cycles I had finally reached the base of the pacifier and it was fully inserted in my mouth.
I grabbed the dangling straps and wrapped them around my head, fidgeting with them in my rigid gloves as I tried not to disturb my bonnet. Somehow I got the strap through the buckle and pulled it tight and secure it. Only when the gag was firmly in place (and out of my direct field of view) did I dare to open my eyes.
One more item remained: the handcuffs. But those would incapacitate me completely, so I had to inspect my appearance now before putting them on.
I put my weight on my towering heels, careful not to twist my ankle, and got up. With the tiniest of mincing steps (the chain allowed for nothing else), I tittered towards the vanity mirror of a final inspection.
I should have been scanning the details for minute flaws that I could still correct. Instead, I was captivated in the sight I saw beyond the mirror. I didn't see Charles, obviously. But neither did I see the girl who tended to look back at me these days.
Instead I saw something staring back at me. Like a very lifelike doll that wasn't quite me, yet it somehow was. It's hard to explain. The heavy makeup, the outfit, the bonds, each of these alone were laughable, but taken together it was grander than the sum of its parts. It was one of those rare sights that at first you laugh at and try to ignore, but of which you soon realize you can't stop thinking about.
Stunned at my own reflection, I remained motionless. The girl in the mirror did not. A slow but noticeable movement was happening behind the fabric of her panties. Only then did I feel the pressure of my own panties against my excited clitty.
I looked down with a combination of baffled dread, confused denial and lustful ignorance, but my flared skirt blocked my view. I dared not push it aside to visually confirm what I already felt: the push of my hard clitty against the smooth and soft satin.
No, wait, this can't be, I thought. I look ridiculous! I'm not turned on by this. I shouldn't be turned on by this! This is horrible. It's not fair!
A sudden metallic voice broke through the storm of denial and confusion that went through my mind. “Six-fifty-six, Cheryl. Inspection time.”
Yes, Miss, thank you, Miss, I tried to say, completely disregarding the gag that reduced it to intelligible mumbles. Hurriedly, I minced over to my bed to grab the handcuffs, while being acutely aware of the height of my heels. Together with the chain, they forced my hips into a sway that was probably very pretty, but had the horrible side effect of rubbing the front of my panties against my clitty.
I had turned my back towards the mirror, preventing me from seeing myself anymore. Still, a treacherous part of my mind projected mental images of the sight of the sissy in a white ultra-short dress and towering heels scampering by.
I grabbed the handcuffs from the bed, and turned around. Avoiding the reflection in the mirror, I minced to my position in the middle of the room.
My head still full with conflicting emotions, unwanted feelings and stray thoughts, I fumbled with the handcuffs until I managed to close one shackle around my right wrist.
I put my arms behind my back, and tried to place my left wrist in the other cuff. In my confused and rushed state, wearing those gloves, not being able to see what I was doing, that was much easier said than done. Almost by accident did I close the second cuff around my wrist, which locked shut with a ominously definitive click.
Dressed, bound, and to my unending horror, still very excited, I stood in the centre of my room, waiting for the minotaur to appear.
She took her sweet time. Five past seven, there was still no sight of her while my heels were starting to get really uncomfortable. Worse still was my clitty holding up my panties like a tent pole. With my arms bound, I was unable to quickly move it into a more comfortable position. I tried wiggling my hips and thighs to get it to move, but all I got for my efforts was a the soft touch of satin stroking my clitty, while occasionally catching a glance of the bound beauty struggling in the mirror, which arguably only made it worse.
I froze when the door handle turned, and my tutor stepped inside. As best I could while being bound, I bobbed a curtsy while muttering a proper greeting into my gag.
“Hello Cheryl,” she said, rather friendly despite her growling voice. She stood before me, looking me up and down with a subtle smile. If she noticed the tent pole in my panties, she ignored it.
To my relief she hadn't brought her humongous paddle. Instead, she held a wooden cane, almost a yard in length, but very thin.
After silently observing me with that unnerving smirk of hers, she suddenly broke the silence. “Not too shabby, girl. Now let me have a closer look...” she spoke, stepping right up to me.
“Huff?!” I suddenly uttered completely startled. What was she doing? I thought.
My tutor's inspections had always been rather up-close and personal, but this was something else. I had grown somewhat accustomed with her reaching under my dress to check my corset, but she ignored the straps and simply stroked my waist and hips and all along the circumference of the corset. My bra was next, where she ran her fingers up and down me underneath the shoulder straps and beneath the clasp at the back.
In any other circumstance I would have yelped and jumped up at her overly intimate touch, but bound as I was I could do little to endure it and not give in to the swoon that was clouding my mind.
As far as my tutor was concerned nothing was out of the ordinary, without a hint of emotion continued her movements: fingers caressing my arms shoulders and neck, then using her palms to stroke my legs from the ankle all the way up to my groin.
She finished with probing the rim of my panties with her finger, moving between the fabric and my skin, never once touching my clitty.
Finally she stepped back. “There appears to be some spillage, girl,” She said matter-of-factly. Then she gave me an amused smile. “Seems a little someone likes being a sissy-baby a bit too much.”
I looked down, but still couldn't see anything because of my dress. The feeling of moistness on my clitty told me she was right, though.
Terribly confused I looked at her. “Yes, Miss. I'm sorry, Miss,” is what my well-trained and behaved persona wanted to say. “No, you are wrong!” Is what my very confused and thoroughly humiliated ego wanted to say. “Humpfh, huff...” Is what I actually said.
“Yes, I understand. You love being a ultra-feminine girly-girl,” she said with a grin. “And what's better than that? Why, being a tied up ultra-feminine girly-girl, of course. No wonder that little clitty got all excited.”
She took hold of my leash, then gave it a gentle tug, forcing me forward. “Nevertheless, you have ruined your panties, little girl. That is intolerable. Someone needs a good spanking.”
Please no, Miss! I'm sorry! I tried to utter, but the gag silenced my pleas. With a force that was rather gentle but irresistible nonetheless, she guided me towards my chair.
“Knees on the pillow, sissy,” she instructed me. Pulled by the leash, I had little choice and knelt on the soft chair, looking over its back.
“Lean forward, Cheryl, show me those panties. A bit more, sissy. Good girl.”
She let go of my leash, confident that I couldn't go anywhere. She was right, of course. “Now just you sit there and think about what you've done, sissy.” I felt her cane softly stroke my behind. “How you got all excited from wearing a frilly dress, heels and bondage. Shame on you.”
Her deep voice had taken on a peculiar quality, strangely beautiful, like that of a famous tenor. There was no trace of anger as she spoke, sounding more soothing. Darkly tempting even. “No wonder you are no longer a man. Being a sissy is what you should be. You deserve to be down here with me. You're happy you are down here...”
There was a swish as the cane cut through the air. I heard a snap as it hit me. I yelped, kicking my legs and wiggled my behind.
“Gone is that silly male ego...”
Another strike “Guh!” I mumbled.
“All those responsibilities, all that pride...”
The cane swooshed, and I squealed.
“Gone. Can you feel it? How the weight of the world falls off your shoulders...”
Another powerful sting hit my behind. It was very different from the flaming hammer blows of her paddle. More like a... wicked caress. It still hurt, but... differently. I suddenly thought of Miss Rosenberg, telling me... something... about pain.
“No more worries...” my tutor continued as she administered my punishment. “Free from responsibilities... Free from difficult decisions... Free from choice... Your dominant takes care of you... She takes care of everything... All you need to do is obey... Be pretty...”
She just kept talking as she spanked me. I felt a veil was being pulled over me. Over my eyes, over my entire body, over my mind. A veil of lightning: painful but so full of boundless energy.
Her voice penetrated that veil, droning on in that ethereal tone.
“You want to be pretty... You want to be feminine... Gone is the filthy male... Embrace the feminine... Be feminine... Be a sissy... Be yourself...”
I tried to think, everything seemed muddled. Her voice distracted me, and I pleaded, shouted, for her to shut up and let me think, but the gag silenced me and her words just kept pouring in.
“You want to wear dresses... You love high heels.. You want to be pretty... Be pretty for your dominant... She deserves you... You are your gift to her... You are her pet... Your dominant owns you... You want to be owned...”
I was crying. Not from pain. Not even because I was sad, but because I was experiencing so many conflicting emotions and stray thoughts I had no other way to express myself but to cry.
“Hush, now, baby. It's all right. No need for tears, girl.”
I found myself sitting on Frau Ochsenhorn's lap, leaning against her shoulder while she sat on the chair with her arms around me.
“What... what happened?” I asked, unsure of how I got there. I tried to make sense of everything, not even realizing my gag had somehow been removed.
“I just planted a tiny seed, Cheryl. With time and careful cultivation, it will sprout and bloom into a beautiful flower.”
“I don't understand, Miss.”
“Of course you don't, dear. But don't you worry your tiny little mind on that. You just be a good girl and perform your assignments. Now let me dry those tears of yours. Can you stand?”
“I think so, Miss,” I told her. With her support she got me back on my heels. Though a bit wobbly, I managed.
“All right, let's walk a bit,” she told me as she gently pulled my leash. It took me considerable concentration, but I followed her lead.
“We need to fix your makeup, Cheryl. Stand here, don't move.” She picked up a few items from the vanity table. She powered my cheeks, added blush and reapplied some eye-shadow and lipstick.
“There, much better. Take a look, girl.” She turned me towards the vanity mirror where I got a good look at the bound dolly that somehow was me.
“Now let's put this on you, so we can join your classmates,” she said as she stood behind me.
“Miss?” I asked confused.
She held out the gag in front of me. “Tiffany made you wear this, remember? Forced you into this outfit, and now I'm forced to put this in your mouth.”
Anger flared up from my whirlpool of emotions. Tiffany... that mean little hussy! I'll show her, even if it's the last thing I'll do!
“Now open wide, honey...” My tutor said as I watched the girl in the mirror. I saw how the huge woman behind her put the phallus between the girl's lips. With implacable force, she slid the penetrator in completely and then expertly secured the gag at the back of the girl's head.
“Let's get sissy-baby to class,” Frau Ochsenhorn spoke, her voice back to her familiar growling baritone as she led me out onto the corridor, my excited clitty once more pushing against the moist fabric of my panties.
“Thank you Daniëlle. That will be all” Miss D'Ives said during class. “Cheryl? Your turn. Front and centre, girl.”
I looked at her, dismayed. She couldn't be serious, I thought.
If I had hoped my bonds would be removed for class, I had been sorely disappointed. Frau Ochsenhorn had led me into the classroom, still bound and gagged, where I was placed behind my desk. Aside from making sure I was comfortable (relatively speaking, of course), my tutor left me there without another word. Miss D'Ives didn't bat an eyelid as I was brought in; she just welcomed me and complimented me on my dress.
My classmates had arrived shortly after me. Tiffany was first, wearing the exact same outfit as I did, bonds and all. I would have gloated at the sight if I didn't feel so cross with her for forcing this outfit on me.
Daniëlle and Alice came in simultaneously, looking like oversized toddlers. They hadn't been bound at all, but judging from the angry glances they shot each other I doubt they realized their fortune.
When Suzy was escorted in, I noticed she was wearing the most plain outfit of the lot, with only a pair of leather wrist cuffs with D-rings that spoiled her appearance as a young lady. Still, even these had been left unshackled. It was weird to see how that troublemaker had the most regular appearance of our sorry group.
After welcoming us in her class, Miss D'Ives started our lesson without even acknowledging our predicaments. She didn't say anything about our bonds, let alone releasing us from them. The thought of spending this day tied up was bad enough, but now she expected me to perform as well?
“Don't be shy girl. I'm sure you'll do fine,” she said, sounding rather friendly, but casually stroking the crop she was holding. “Hurry up now.”
I got the hint. With some effort I got on my feet and in my towering heels I minced over to the platform. The jangling ankle chain was long enough to step onto the platform, but only just. My teacher graciously helped me up by holding my leash.
Not letting go, she guided me around the platform twice before placing me right in front of my classmates.
To my unending horror, the soft rubbing of my panties had stimulated me again. Though my flaring dress obscured my own vision, it allowed my classmates to get a good look of my hard sissy-clitty as it tried to push though the frilly fabric of my panties.
I felt dazed, unable to think clearly. Utterly humiliated, I wanted to run and hide, but my bonds would have prevented that even if I could have ordered my feet to move. Nevertheless, Miss D'Ives firmly held on to my leash. So I just stood there, in full view of my classmates, bound, dressed like a sissy-baby, and seemingly aroused by my own predicament.
“Why, doesn't she look pretty, girls?” The teacher said. “All dolled up. She is going to make some mistress very happy, won't she?”
Then something happened I would never have expected: I blushed.
Well, not really. I felt terribly ashamed and I was red as a beet already. Yet despite all of that I began to feel something else too: a shy excitement.
It was so confusing, so alien. But I despite my utter humiliation, the wrongness of this insane situation, I felt... pretty. I was the centre of attention. The wrong kind of attention, for sure, but attention nonetheless. Everyone was awed by my sissiness. My teacher didn't mind my bondage, or even my hard clitty. She actually approved. She was proud of me, and that made me feel... good. And if she was proud, then perhaps Mistress Christina... Anyway, the other girls were envious, surely.
And as I stood there, the bonds preventing me from running despite the alarm bells ringing in my head, a strange thought struck me. For a moment, the briefest of moments, I realised my bonds hadn't imprisoned me at all, they had simply freed me from choice. Then I tasted the phallus in my mouth and the moment passed.
As I struggled with my conflicting thoughts and emotions, my teacher fluffed up my skirt, making sure my panties were completely exposed. She brushed against my clitty, which I assumed to be an accident, further exciting my already hard member.
The she stepped back, crossed her hands before her, gave me a smile and simply said: “Teapot.”
I couldn't help looking at Miss D'Ives in surprise. As part of our homework, we had been instructed to prepare a little dance to the tunes of a nursery rhyme. Since I'm American, I had to rehearse 'I'm a little teapot', and clearly it was now my turn to perform. The movements were straightforward enough, but how on Earth was I supposed to perform tied up like this?
My teacher apparently read my thoughts. “Just do your best, Cheryl,” she answered to my unspoken question. “After all, it is the effort that counts.” Miss D'Ives bent and stretched her crop as she said that.
She placed the crop underneath her armpit and started clapping rhythmically, nodding to my classmates to follow her example. After some hesitation, everyone fell in. Except for Tiffany, obviously.
She turned back towards me, then counted off: “Three, two, one... I'm a little teapot, short and sprout...”
With my hands tied, the only thing I could think of was to improvise something involving short dainty steps. Forcing a blissful expression in my eyes and a smile on my lips, I minced around the platform to the beat of the clapping.
“...This is my handle, this is my spout...”
Only my teacher sang the words, as my European classmates were unfamiliar with the text, but using her voice as a guideline, I tittered across the wooden platform. I made sure the clicking of my heels was in perfect rhythm with the clapping, and for once my ultra-short short dress was to my advantage, as it allowed me to draw attention to my long legs and (hopefully) away from my clitty.
“...When I get all steamed up, hear me shout...”
I moaned girlishly into my gag, while giving my audience a suggestive wink. There was only so much I could do with my legs, and by now it had been drilled into my skull that a proper sissy always needs to surprise her dominant with a little variation. Miss D'Ives face showed approval.
“...Tip me over and pour me out.”
I minced back to my original spot, bend over forward as much as I dared in my towering heels and bonds, giving Daniëlle a good look at my cleavage in the process, then bent my legs and bobbed something approaching a curtsey.
Ashamed, humiliated, and to my horror strangely excited, I waited for my teacher to excuse me. She just continued clapping.
“l'm a little teapot, yes it's true. Here is an example of what I can do...” Miss D'Ives suddenly continued.
I looked at her in utter surprise. There was another verse? I only knew the first part!
My teacher interrupted her singing. “A sissy's work is never done, Cheryl,” she said as she continued clapping. “Just because you are ignorant enough to think you are done, don't expect your betters to agree. Now continue, silly girl. I'm a little teapot, yes it's true...”
So I continued my hobbled dance, making up the moves as I went, trying my best to make it look sexy and enticing. When our instructor finished the last verse, she started over without skipping a beat. But this time I was prepared, and I continued my moves.
After this second round she stopped clapping, and immediately the room fell silent. She gave me a long hard look that almost made me shiver.
Then she smiled. “Well, wasn't that lovely, girls? I think Cheryl deserves some applause. Let's hear it, girls!” Miss D'Ives started clapping enthusiastically, and my classmates mimicked her, albeit a lot more reluctantly.
And strangely, I was thankful for their applause. At highschool I never understood those kids of the drama club, who went on stage in front of a lot of people to say and do stupid things made up by a stupid poet who died centuries ago. Now I understood: you might not like the role you play, but the applause afterwards is heartening.
“Give your audience a bow, girl, then you can leave the stage.” My instructor told me. “No, not to your seat, silly girl. Get over here, next to me. That's it. Now turn around, and get on your knees. You heard me, sissy! Now!”
Flabbergasted at this sudden turn of events, I did as I was told. Slowly, as not to trip on my shakles, I leaned forward and kneeled down.
“Good,” Miss D'Ives said without a hint of warmth in her voice.
She patted my head like I was some pet. “Now girls, Cheryl's performance was... adequate,” she spoke with some resignation, “but I'm sure you can do better. Let's see how you fare, Tiffany.”
I saw Tiffany trying to get up from her chair, and failing miserably. That caused me to smirk behind my gag. Now it's your turn to make a fool of yourself, you hussy, I thought.
Out teacher stepped up to my classmate. “Oh, no, no,no, silly girl. Let me untie you first...”
That hit me like a sledgehammer. Aghast, I saw how Miss D'Ives took out a key and unlocked Tiffany's handcuffs, then took out her gag. Tiffany must have been just as surprised as I was,
“Give Tiffany a warm round of applause, girls!” Our teacher called out as she escorted Tiffany onto the podium, holding her hand gently.
That was not fair! I thought furiously. If I had to perform tied up, so should she! Out of frustration, I started to pull on my bonds, grunting into my gag. If I had been untied, I probably would have thrown a tantrum, but in my current state I could barely get on my feet.
As Tiffany prepared herself on the podium, our teacher took up position next to me. She placed her hand on the nape of my neck, not unkindly, but enabling her to intervene in case I would do something very foolish.
“All right, Tiffany,” Miss D'Ives told my rival as she pinched my neck softly. “Please show Cheryl here you are better than her.
If looks could kill, Tiffany would have been killed instantly. When she caught my eyes, she just gave a slight smirk, which infuriated me even further. I felt my instructor's grip tighten.
Then Miss D'Ives began to sing, and Tiffany started to dance. If I had a clearer head, I would have realized her performance was laughable and silly. She was a man dressed as a girl dancing to the tunes of a nursery rhyme, after all. But I was green with envy: she had been untied. She didn't have to content with a wayward clitty. And worst of all: that talentless hussy had stolen my spotlight!
I nursed my grievances as Tiffany performed, and twice did Miss D'Ives shush me when I groaned too loud, giving me a soft cuff around the ears as a further warning. Only when Tiffany had returned to her seat did she allow me to get up and escort me to my chair.
Finally the lesson ended and Miss D'Ives was replaced by another teacher.
Not that it did me any good. I wasn't untied until lunchtime.
That evening I was alone in the common room, still seething with anger. After all the indignities I suffered in the morning I tried to regain my composure by being the perfect little sissy; smiling shyly, mincing prettily in my extreme heels and looking cute in my atrocious dress. I redoubled my attention to my ridiculous classes, hoping to score some merits. But it was to no avail. My tutors were very critical of my performance. Twice I was called over in front of the class, forced to bend over the teacher's desk while she readied her tool of the day.
But worst of all, they showered that hussy Tiffany with praise. Her performance was mediocre at best, but somehow she could do no wrong. It was infuriating!
I was sulking as I paced around the room. Well, not really. A proper sissy doesn't pace or sulk. The camera in the corner was a clear reminder. So I just smiled blissfully as my heels clicked with each girlish step, mincing towards nowhere in particular.
But my mind was racing. I needed merits. I needed to get back at Tiffany. I needed to be better than her. Better than all of them. Mistress Christina would accept no less, so neither could I.
A voice interrupted my musings: “Cheryl? Do you have a moment?”
I stopped in my tracks and turned towards its source, making my dress rustle. “...Suzy? What do you want?” I smiling, but couldn't hide my annoyance.
She was standing in the doorway towards our rooms, looking little like the rebellious troublemaker she was before. Her posture was properly submissive, standing there in her enviously low heels, hands folded before her and eyes lowered to the ground.
Even our teachers noted her improvement, earning her a merit today.
“I'm having trouble with my homework today, and Miss Keller will be very cross with me if I don't get it right.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. ”I know you are very good at it. Would you help me, please?”
Frau Keller had given us separate exercises for our homework. My classmates were to apply makeup using advanced techniques. I was to simply put lipstick on. Another insult.
“Sure, Suzy. I'd be happy to,” I said with more enthusiasm than I felt. Still, it was nice that at least someone acknowledged my skills.
I followed her to her room, making sure my movements were more exaggerated than hers, just in case we'd meet a tutor in the corridor.
She let me in, then closed the door behind me.
“Whatever you are thinking of doing... Don't!” She suddenly said.
I blinked in confusion. “Wh... What...?” I stammered.
Suzy was looking straight into my eyes. Not a trace of submission was left in hers, replaced with defiance and determination. “You need to calm down,” she said intensely. “They are messing with you. Don't play their game.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked confused.
She glanced at the green button next to her bed. “Wait, not another word...” She walked over to the small sink we all had in our rooms, then turned on the faucet, letting it run. The tap hissed as water flowed out of it, splashing into the sink.
“Now she cannot hear us. I hope...” She said softly, but the concern in her voice was unmistakable.
“Who?” I asked, utterly baffled.
“Big Sister,” Suzy replied conspiratorially. “I don't want her listening in on us.”
I gave her a puzzled look. “You need to push the button for her to hear us,” I said, nodding towards the speaker.
She looked at me, with fire in her eyes. “Are you sure about that? Perhaps there are other microphones. Perhaps even other cameras. I bet they are trying to eavesdrop on us right now.”
“Aren't you being a bit paranoid?” I asked helpfully.
Suzy gave an annoyed sigh. “Listen... They've got you all worked up. Don't let them. You need to calm down.”
“Er...Sure. So, do you need my help with your homework or not?”
She grabbed my shoulders firmly as she looked me in the eyes. “I'm serious, Cheryl! They are trying to make you mad, and they are succeeding!” She said frantically.
I would have stepped back if she wasn't holding me. “They? You mean our teachers? Why would they do that?” I asked perplexed.
“Don't you see? They are trying to confuse us, keep us on edge so we cannot think straight,” she rambled.
“Okay...” I said non-committal. Someone wasn't thinking straight, all right, but it was probably not a good idea to mention that.
“And you need to stop performing your assignments,” she added.
“My assignments? Why? How else am I supposed to score merits?” I asked indignant.
I could almost hear her grind her teeth. “Mein Gott, are you really that stup...” She interrupted herself, then took a deep breath.
She let go of my shoulders, but her eyes remained fixed on mine. “Every time one of us finishes an assignment, someone else will pay for it. It seeds strife and paranoia.” She said with conviction.
“But why?” I asked unconvinced.
She lowered her voice. “When recruits join the army, they go to bootcamp, right? There they are trained by some instructor from hell who will make their life miserable. So they bond together into an unbreakable team, united in their hatred for their instructor.”
She raised her hands. “Here it's the other way around. Sure, our instructors are from hell too, but they try to turn us against one another. By separating us from the few people that might be emphatic with our plight, they isolate us. So we have no-where to turn to but the very Dommes that torment us.”
A dark smile appeared on her face. “It is brilliant, in a twisted sort of way.”
“Suzy... aren't you exaggerating a bit?” I asked with a mixture of concern and annoyance.
“That's probably why we are so deep underground,” she added, ignoring me. “So they can mess with us better. Ever noticed the only clocks around are those displays? They probably control them, just like they control those phoney windows. How can we be sure it really is eight o'clock, and not midnight above ground?
“Now you are just being silly!” I snapped
“Am I?” She shot back. “I always had a very regular sleep cycle, even when I got suckered into all this weirdness. Now I'm tired all the time, just like you. No, don't deny it! You try to cover it up with makeup, but I can see it in your eyes. They keep us tired so we cannot think clearly. See through their games.”
“But that doesn't make sense,” I countered, “We have free time. We are allowed to withdraw to our room... they simply cannot control everything we do. They are not omniscient!”
“No, but probably something close to it,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “They are keeping tabs on us, I'm sure. All this effort to decorate this bunker, everything state-of-the-art, yet they install a few cameras the size of shoe-boxes? Probably to draw attention away from hidden cameras. And when things get out of hand, a tutor just 'happens' to pass by for something completely unrelated.”
I didn't know what to say.
“They play us like puppets, dancing to their tune,” Suzy added. “The assignments, betraying one another, making us complicit in each other's punishments, its one big effort to wear us down mentally.”
She straightened her back. “Well, not me. They can try, but I'll beat them,” she didn't raise her voice, but I could hear it oozed with defiance.
She looked at me intently. “However, I need your help. And not just you. You, me, Tiffany, Alice and Daniëlle. We need to stick together. Support one another. We keep our heads down, do as we are told, but nothing more. That way we may find a way out of here.”
My eyes widened. “You mean... escape?!” I whispered louder than intended.
“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down!” She snapped. “Well, maybe. I've been keeping my eyes open, and it looks like security isn't quite as tight as the Headmistress wants us to believe. But even if I do not find a way out, they cannot keep us here forever. So if we just stick together, play our own game, we may yet be able to hold on to our masculinity till they have to let us out. "
Suzy's eyes looked into mine. They had lost their hard defiant edge. It was almost as if they were pleading we me. A moment of silence passed between us.
“What do you want me to do?” I finally asked.
A relieved smile appeared on her face. “Right now, you are just playing into their hands. So calm down. Forget Tiffany. Do as you are told but nothing more. Do not arouse suspicion. That is all. We'll talk later.”
She walked over to the sink and closed the tab. “Thank you for showing me that technique, Cheryl,” she said. “though I doubt I'll ever be able to use eyeliner as well as you can.”
This confused me for a moment, causing Suzy make a gesture: say something, you dolt.
“Er... You are very welcome, Suzy,” I finally said. “But I'm sure you'll be an expert soon enough. Goodbye, now.”
I left her room and walked down the corridor. She had given me a lot to process.
I thought about what Suzy had said. About the assignments. About Tiffany. About escaping. Arguments for and against crossed my mind, as my heels found their way into the common room.
I was standing in the centre of the room when I came to a decision. I turned on my heels, then bobbed a curtsey for the camera pointed at me.
“What is it, Cheryl?” Big Sister asked with her electronic buzz.
“Miss, I would like to report that Suzy is being rebellious,” I told her with my sweet and most girlish voice. “She only acts like she is docile, but in truth she has improper thoughts: she is planning to escape. She even wanted me to help her.”
“That is very serious, Cheryl. Tell me everything,” Big Sister demanded.
So I did. As much as possible, anyway. I had difficulty remembering what Suzy had told me. She had been frantic, but hardly made any sense. She had told me something about not being angry with Tiffany because our teachers went to bootcamp to turn us against each other and kept the window lights on at night and that there were hidden cameras that play us like puppets. Golly, just thinking about it made me tired.
At any rate, Big Sister got the gist of it. “Thank you for your honesty, Cheryl. This earns you two merits. Well done girl. Why don't you go back to your room and prepare for the night?”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss,” I said as I bobbed a pretty curtsey. I turned on my heels and minced to my bedroom. Two merits, I thought. Eat your heart out, Tiffany!
I was preparing for bed when I heard a ruckus on the corridor. I tried to open my door to see outside, but it was locked. Instead I listened to what was happening. The solid door blocked out most sounds, but I could hear various people down the hallway. There seemed to be a struggle going on. I heard some muffled screams and grunts, and the dangling of chains.
I kept listening as the sounds abated until it was silent again. I didn't know what had just happened, but something about it seemed horribly relevant. Finally, I turned away and got back to more pressing matters. Finally could take of this horrible dress, I thought.
The following day, something was different. At first I did not realize what, until Alice spoke up during breakfast. “Where is Suzy?”
This caused a murmur in the dining hall, even though I said nothing. A sudden pang of guilt shot through me, though I did not understand why. Finally our tutors called for silence, and that was that.
When we arrived at class for our first lesson, we saw the Headmistress was waiting for us. She bade us welcome and even gave me a smile.
“Good morning, girls. Before we start off with your next lesson, I have an important announcement to make. Sadly, Suzy will not be joining us this day, nor any other. She is no longer part of this class.”
We all gasped in unison.
“Indeed,” the Headmistress said ruefully. “I have high hopes for that girl, but I could no longer overlook her troublesome behaviour and the bad example she was setting for her poor classmates. To protect you she had to be removed.”
Good riddance with that troublemaker, I wanted to think. But in truth, I felt guilt and regret.
“Is she... expelled, Headmistress?” I asked, my voice betraying both hope and dread.
The baroness smiled warmly. “Most certainly not, my dear. The Von Wytenbach's Etikette-Schule für junge Damen aller Geschlechter does not abandon its pupils, no matter how troublesome. We have merely transferred her to the nursery.”
“The nursery, Headmistress?” Daniëlle asked in puzzlement.
“Yes, it is where the most difficult students are sent for a specialised and very intensive... schooling.” An enigmatic smile appeared of her face as she said that. “When she is done, she will be cycled back into the next novice class. Next time you'll meet her, she'll be a perfect example of submissive femininity, I promise.”
That was a relief, I thought. Suzy would be a good sissy after all. And all's well that ends well, right?
Though Suzy probably did not agree, I suddenly heard myself think.