Scarlett wiped the rain from her eyes, cursing, her sodden fringe plastered against
her forehead. “Where the hell are we?” she snapped. “According to that guy, we should
have hit the main road ages ago.”
Behind her, Shannon shrugged nervously. “His English wasn’t so great,” she said,
wary of provoking her sister’s anger. “Maybe we didn’t follow his directions properly.”
Scarlett glared at her, but secretly had to admit she had been thinking the same thing.
The two girls pushed their bikes further up the hill, pounded by the rain. An
onlooker would have marked them immediately as sisters, with their strong physical
resemblance; were it not for the difference in their ages, they could almost have been
twins. Scarlett, the elder, was at the end of her teens, possibly having reached 20; her
sister was two or three years younger. But perhaps of more interest to the onlooker would
have been their differing modes of dress.
Though both girls were clad for a summer biking holiday, Scarlett’s outfit
consisted of a tight white tank top cut off above the navel; her shorts ended only a
couple of inches down her strong, smooth thighs, hugging the flare of her hips. Her
outfit spoke of confidence in herself and in her body; though the outlines of her
curvaceous figure were clearly displayed, any unwelcome admirers this might attract would
find their attentions rewarded only with a cold, hard stare.
The younger girl wore a larger, baggier t-shirt, and her shorts were somewhat
longer. Her more modest apparel was reflected in her manner, which was a little more
cautious, less confident; she was not naturally inclined to take the lead, thereby
ensuring she remained in her sister’s shadow. Despite this, she was undeniably a pretty
girl with her pale, clear blue eyes, sweet, kissable lips and light brown hair that fell
almost to her shoulders. In more temperate weather, that hair would brush against the
nape of her neck; now, it was matted and darkened with rain.
“Dammit, I don’t want to be stuck half way up a mountain all night,” Scarlett
growled, all too aware that dusk was upon them. Shannon looked back down the muddy path.
“Should we go back to the village?” she asked. “We could stay at the inn.”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, I didn’t like the look of that place too much.
Besides, I’m not going back to have all those men see us in this state.” She gestured to
her front. “I mean, look at me!”
Shannon looked at her older sister’s chest. It was true; the rain had soaked her
top to virtual transparency, betraying the fact that she had decided against wearing a bra
today. Her breasts were large, with the resilience and pout of youth. Dressed as she
was, little was left to the imagination. “You can see everything,” she muttered, not
without a tinge of envy, as she considered her own, less developed figure. Why don’t I
have a body like that, she asked herself.
“Well, it was too bloody hot for a bra this morning,” Scarlett grumbled
defensively, as she resumed pushing her bike up the hill. Wearily, Shannon followed her.
It was when they rounded the hill a few minutes later that they saw it: maybe a
couple of miles away, a huge mansion hiding behind high walls, a welcome light shining in
the darkness. “What’s that?” Shannon gasped.
Scarlett blinked rain away from her eyes, trying to focus. “I don’t know. We’re
miles from any villages. Do you think it’s a hostel or something?”
Her sister shrugged. “I don’t know. But if it’s a chance to get out of this
rain, I want to take it.” She pushed her bike up harder, overtaking her sister, who
looked after her in surprise.
As the two girls drew closer, the mansion began to take on a more forbidding
appearance. A road led up to tall, wrought iron gates, set into a wall over 12 feet high,
topped with barbed wire. A CCTV camera was set high beside the gate; on the opposite side
was bell and intercom, next to a brass plaque inscribed with the legend, ‘The Von
Hoffman’s School for young ladies’.
Scarlett hesitated for a moment, then pressed the bell firmly. There was a pause.
“Do you think it’s working?” Shannon whispered.
Scarlett pointed to the camera. “That thing moved when I pressed it. They can
see us.”
The intercom clicked into life. “Yes?” said a woman’s voice.
Scarlett said, “Um, we’re lost. My sister and I were looking for the main road
and, um, we’re soaked – can we get some directions from you? Or at least dry off?”
There was a further pause, almost as if the unseen speaker was consulting with
someone else. Then the voice came back. “Follow the road to the main entrance. I will
meet you there.” Then the intercom went dead.
The gates swung slowly open and the girls eagerly pushed their bikes forward. The
drive was long and wide, winding through grounds that seemed to be well maintained, though
the sisters were too wet and weary to appreciate them. Though the main building’s gothic
facade looked a little sinister in the semi-darkness, the warm lights at the window and
the promise of sanctuary made up for it.
The huge front door opened as the sisters approached. A stern faced, middle aged
woman was there. “Leave your bikes outside,” she told them, in a tone that brooked no
argument. “One of the boys will see to them.” She turned and walked down the hallway.
Not knowing what else to do, the girls followed.
“Do you have a towel or something?” Scarlett asked, her voice echoing from the
high ceiling. “I’d really like to dry my hair.”
Without looking round, the woman said, “We have space in two dormitories for you.
We don’t have a large selection of dry clothes, so I’ve laid out a fresh school uniform
for each of you.”
“Thank you,” Scarlett said. It was only later that it occurred to her to wonder
how the matron had managed to lay out fresh clothes when she could not have known they
were coming.
Suddenly, the matron stopped and turned. “What are your names?” she asked. The
girls told her.
“Very well. Shannon, you will find a change of clothes for you here.” She opened
a door and motioned the girl through. “Scarlett, you are in a dormitory down the
corridor.”
“Can’t we use the same one?” Shannon asked. The matron looked down at her
sharply. “This, young lady, is a school. It is not a hotel. These are the available
beds. Now, dry yourselves off and change. The masters of the school wish to be
introduced to you shortly.” She swept off again down the corridor.
Shannon stood at the doorway, looking nervously into the dormitory. Seeing the
younger girl’s apprehension, Scarlett gave a quick smile. “She’s a frosty one, isn’t
she?” she remarked.
“Quickly, girl!” the matron snapped without looking round. “We haven’t got all
day!” And even though she was annoyed at being spoken to as though she were a child,
Scarlett hurried after her. They were guests, after all, and though a forthright young
lady, she was essentially polite.
Scarlett was led to a dormitory down the hallway, and left to change. The room
held a dozen beds, set at regular intervals from each other. By each was a small, two
drawer cabinet, topped by a small lamp.
Each of the beds was neatly made up, but Scarlett’s was easy to spot, having a
school uniform and towel laid neatly atop the duvet. Scarlett regarded the outfit with
some suspicion. Was that really what girls wore in places like this, she wondered. The
grey pleated skirt was the sort that might be used for gym, being barely longer than her
shorts; the short sleeved, thin blouse also looked to be tighter than she would have
preferred.
She was also disappointed to see that there was no brassiere, but she supposed
they would have no way of knowing her size. As all her own clothes were in a rucksack
strapped to her bike, now presumably stashed in a garage somewhere, there was nothing for
it but to change into the clothes provided.
The blouse was indeed figure hugging, and tight across Scarlett’s well-formed
chest. Her nipples could be easily discerned through the thin material, and the movement
of her breasts as she walked was barely concealed. She sighed; at least it was a bit more
modest than her soaked top. And really, she thought, what did it matter if she gave a
couple of teachers a thrill?
Having dried off and dressed, Scarlett started to look around herself, curious.
She had never been in a boarding school, but was not certain they looked like this. The
dorm was more like an army barracks; there were no personal touches, no photos of family
or boyfriends on the bedside tables. And why were the windows so small and high on the
walls – and why were they barred?
Her suspicions aroused, Scarlett moved out of the dormitory back to the corridor.
All was quiet; she had neither seen nor heard a trace of any other girls since their
arrival, yet they were surely not in lessons this late in the evening.
The corridor was empty; Scarlett’s bare feet made no sound on the carpet. Doors
were widely spaced, interspersed with framed classical artworks, depicting nudes or erotic
scenes from mythology. No art connoisseur herself, Scarlett found herself briefly
questioning their suitability for a girls’ educational establishment.
Turning a corner, Scarlett found a further series of doors and almost
reconsidered; just how big was this place? But then she heard something and
simultaneously spotted a partially open door to her right.
As she slipped toward it, strangely anxious not to be seen, the sound was
repeated. Scarlett could not work out what it was: a crack, smack-like, followed by what
sounded like a cry of pain. She sidled to the doorway and, peering round, almost gasped
with shock at what she saw. A naked girl was before her, her hands bound together and
above her head, suspended by them from the ceiling. She was young, about Shannon’s age,
though taller; her long, auburn hair fell below her shoulders, and her slim form was
stretched to its limits, the girl barely able to stand on tiptoe. She was standing side
on to Scarlett, giving the older girl a full view of her long legs and pert little
breasts, emphasised as they were by her uncomfortable posture.
Scarlett’s heart was hammering and she felt frozen in place by shock, tense with
the knowledge that she had stumbled on something she was not intended to see. There was a
movement from behind the door and the bound girl turned a little toward her. The
inadvertent voyeur could now see that the girl’s large eyes were wide with pain and fear,
her full lips parted with her quickened, nervous breath. Even so, Scarlett could not help
noticing how lovely the helpless girl was.
Before she could take in any more, a man stepped into view. He was in his 40s,
powerfully built, and stripped to the waist. He was smiling at the girl, but his smile
had cruelty in it, and it was clearly he who had inspired the fear in the youngster. He
took her by the chin, turning her face to him. “Ready to be a good girl now, Michelle?”
he asked.
“Please, Master, don’t hurt me,” the girl choked. “I’ll be good, I promise!” As
she spoke, her voice quivering, the girl turned on her toes to face the man she addressed
as Master. In doing so, she displayed her rear view to Scarlett – and across her small,
trim buttocks Scarlett saw a series of overlapping red weals, bright against her white
skin. At the same time, she noted the whip held in the man’s hand and understood with
horror what she had heard from down the corridor: the sound of a teenage girl being
whipped by one of her teachers.
Scarlett gasped aloud, shocked at this example of blatant abuse. She immediately
put her hand to her mouth, but it was too late: the man had heard her. He looked up, as
he slipped one arm about young Michelle’s waist and pulled the girl close to him, her bare
skin against his, and gazed directly into Scarlett’s eyes. He smiled, relishing her fear
and, as he bent to kiss Michelle, she lifting her lips to his obediently, he pushed the
door closed with his whip.
It clicked shut, leaving Scarlett trembling outside. Who was this monster who
used his position as teacher to exploit the girls under his care? She had to expose him,
she knew – but more than that, she had to find Shannon and get them both away from Von
Hoffman’s.
She turned, only to find the matron facing her. “What are you doing here?” the
woman demanded. “You and your sister are expected.”
“There’s something happening here,” Scarlett gasped, pointing wildly at the door
behind which even now, she was sure, a girl was being sexually assaulted.
“You may tell the headmaster shortly, if you wish,” the matron snapped. “For now,
follow me. The masters are waiting.”
She turned on her heel and Scarlett, confused, followed. Too right she would tell
what she had seen, she thought. That bastard would get what he deserved!
* * *
In the other dormitory, Shannon had also changed from her sopping clothes into the
school uniform. She, too, found it to be surprisingly skimpy, though she was at least
able to keep her brassiere. The girl changed as quickly as possible, wary lest someone
should enter the room and embarrass her. She sat on the end of the bed, her knees close
together, and self consciously tried to pull the little skirt down to hide more of her
slim legs. Shannon had never been comfortable with her body since entering puberty.
Scarlet had always exulted in her blossoming womanhood, revelling in the attention it
brought her from boys and men, even those she scorned. Conversely, Shannon’s preferred
style of dress had become baggy, asexual sweaters and loose fitting jeans, ever since the
lorry drivers had begun to flash their headlights at her, and the builders taken to wolf
whistling her on her way to school.
She had watched the way her older sister had matured with a mixture of fascination
and dread. Was this how her own body would look in a couple of years’ time? Sometimes
she wished she had Scarlett’s confidence with the opposite sex. At other times, she just
wanted to disappear to where the terrors and mysteries of physical relationships would
never touch her.
The door opened, and Shannon leapt to her feet, startled. A girl walked in, her
arms loaded with freshly pressed folded sheets and towels. She was a tall, slim girl in
her late teens, with long dark hair; she started a little when she saw Shannon.
“Who are you?” the girl asked. “Are you new here?”
“Yes,” Shannon said. “Well, no, I’m not really here – my sister and I are on
holiday, and we got caught in the rain. We’re just staying here tonight.”
The girl’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean you just walked in?” She put the
laundry down and approached Shannon, her voice shaking. “Then you’ve got to leave – now,
before it’s too late! You’ve got to tell everyone...”
“Laura,” came a cold voice from the doorway. The girl fell silent immediately,
and her eyes filled with fear. Shannon looked at her, baffled and a little alarmed.
Laura turned and stood meekly, her gaze lowered, as the matron entered the room, Scarlett
behind her.
“If you have delivered the laundry, Laura, then return to your studies,” the woman
said. “Yes, matron,” Laura replied quietly, and dashed from the room, her slim legs
flashing below the little skirt.
Scarlett and Shannon’s eyes met briefly as the sisters took in how they each
looked in the unfamiliar outfits. But before either could speak, the matron was off
again, beckoning them on.
“Come along, girls,” she said. “It is time for you to meet the masters.”
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