Far Away At Willoughby Academy (Part 2) [F][Reluc][Exh][ENF][College][SciFi][AltReal]

**Note:** Nothing new to offer, but thought you might enjoy a little more of this story. Fair warning, not a lot sexy stuff yet, still building the world.

—-

**Far Away At Willoughby Academy (Part 2)**

Auditorium B wasn’t nearly as busy as the one where class registrations were held. It made sense, since you only need to pick one extracurricular activity, compared to five classes. She wandered around the large room, looking at all the displays for various sports, crafts, computer programming, astronomy, but she decided on swimming. She was a good swimmer, at least, and it was basically an exercise class with no real competition. She Kiera again shortly thereafter, and approached the girl, this time armed with a little more information.

“Hey, Kiera, did you pick something?”

“Yeah, swimming. How about you?”

“Actually, the same. Um, I actually don’t know the schedule for today, is there something next?”

“Today, no. Tomorrow we get more school policy briefings, and there’s the larger campus tour, and then on Wednesday all the other students return, not just the handful of second years who are wandering around here as volunteers. We should go check out our room, and then get dinner.” Regina followed Kiera to Crenshaw dorm where they were directed to go talk to the Dorm Master on the second floor. There were other people milling about, moving in, but there were no other people waiting outside the Dorm Master’s room. They knocked, and a short brunette wearing a second-year uniform opened the door. She had large breasts, and her blouse was cut to show a lot of cleavage.

“Moving in, I assume? Names?” The girls gave them. “Room 211, down near the end of the hall, convenient to the bathrooms at least. You’ll hear all this tomorrow, but the only real rules I worry about are doors closed by eleven, lights out no later than midnight, and no loud music past nine. I don’t care if you drink, as long as you don’t break the other rules. I don’t care if there’s a line of guys or girls outside your room every night, as long as you don’t break those other rules…are we clear?” The girls nodded. “You’re lucky you have me as a Dorm Mistress. I’m Dominique, by the way. I’m pretty laid back, and I’ll look out for you, if needed. If you any problems, any at all, feel free to come talk to me…as long as it’s no later than eleven.” She moved to stand in front of them. “So, let’s see what we’re dealing with. Lower your panties and lift your skirts.” Kiera didn’t hesitate, pulling her panties down to her knees and lifting her skirt to expose herself to the young woman. Regina paused, staring at Kiera for a moment, but then did what the woman asked. “You’re fine, Red…” She said, and Kiera pulled up her panties. Dominque bent down, peering at Regina’s pussy before reaching out and stroking the dark hair between her legs. Regina blushed and flinched. “You, on the other hand, are out of compliance. It’s your first day, but this is one of the very few rules at Willoughby I’m truly responsible for. Go see the salon staff, and soon.”

“Oh, um, I forgot, Ms. Corbin made an appointment for me earlier today for five,” Regina said.

“Well, you have a little time yet, so when you go, head across the quad and go into the student union building. The salon is on the third floor. If the dean made the appointment, they’ll treat you nice, at least. The last time I went, I thought the lady was giving me an exam rather than waxing…it was…unpleasant. If I wasn’t clear, Regina, you can pull your panties back up.” Regina got dressed, and Dorm Mistress Dominque trapped their bracelets to allow them access to the dorm’s our doors and their own room. The girls went to the new room and found their stuff waiting for them. They each kept to the beds their stuff was already near, and started unpacking.

Kiera’s luggage was small, and she realized the girl had barely brought any clothes with her, especially compared to what Regina had.

“No offense, but there aren’t enough weekends in a semester for you to wear all those clothes.” Kiera said. “I mean, I like clothes as much has the next girl but…” She shoved her stuff to the side and fell back on her bed. “Look, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or what?” She asked.

“My Announcement bracelet.” Regina said.

“Uh, duh…”

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but just hear me out. Pretend it’s a story before you lash out, okay?”

“Who’s lashing out?” Kiera said, stretching out. Regina tried to ignore the fact that she could see up her skirt, and thus, see *everything* due to the sheer fabric of her panties. “Go on…”

“Okay, when I drove up here yesterday with my mom, she was pissed at me, not only for being a bad student, but because I’d fucked two guys and got caught this summer…we broke into the high school.”

“Okay, breaking and entering, sure…” Kiera said.

“No, what she was really mad about was me having been caught with two guys. One was fucking me while I was…you know, blowing the other.”

“Been there, done that…some guys don’t like to wait.”

“That’s the thing, though, and here’s where I sound really crazy…in my reality, my original reality…sex, public sex, whatever, it’s taboo, private, something you don’t advertise. There’s no such thing as Privilege Night for guys or Announcement Ceremonies for girls. There are plenty of world religions, and they have a huge effect on morality. I don’t remember having an Announcement Party, but I have pictures and videos on my phone. I don’t remember getting a bracelet, but my mom says I left one at the house. And today, I got naked in front of the dean and Mr. Gunderson, I saw you flash some random guy, then he grabbed your ass, and we just showed our pussies to the person running the dorm…who goes by Dorm Mistress…none of that…*none* of it, is normal.”

“Okay, I admit, Willoughby has its quirks, the grooming standards, the uniforms, some of the disciplinary elements, but any higher education facility is, more or less, like here. Even if you were at Podunk Community College, you’d still wear an Announcement bracelet. Yeah, they might not have dorm masters or care what your bush looks like or even care who you fuck, but *our* Dorm Masters make sure everyone gets along, that no one gets jealous, that the fucking around doesn’t get out of hand and messes up your academics…that’s the Willoughby touch, I guess”

“But my mom, she is…was…a prude. Like, she turns away from nudity on TV, but on the phone this morning, the only thing she was shy about was telling me what my Announcement bracelet looked like…and then she told me how her boss…Jesus, her boss…how he was going to fuck her before her presentation.”

“Yeah, asking your mom to recite your sexual tastes is weird, no question. No parent in their right mind would do that, and I’ll admit, it’s really odd how you keep saying ‘Jesus’ and ‘God’, like some old historical fiction character, but you yourself said you have pictures of your Announcement and stuff—.”

“And I don’t remember any of it! And now, what? I’m just supposed to wear a bracelet that says, ‘Hey, offer to fuck me, I like it doggie style, I give good head, and I like nipple play.’ I mean, really, how does that even work?”

“A guy comes up to you, tells you what he wants, and if you’re into it, you do it. It’s not rocket science.”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Regina asked, exasperated.

“That’s simple, if you don’t like anal, or something, he can’t *make* you do it. I feel like I’m talking to someone with a head injury right now…really. What next? You’re going to ask me how to chew food? No, wait…I saw you do *that* at lunch.” She laughed.

“No, you’re not understanding, Kiera. So, I have a bracelet that says I like straight missionary sex.”

“I don’t know what that means, but go on…”

“Oh, shit, the religion stuff…um, you wouldn’t know about missionaries probably…so, um, sex where the guy is on top of you.”

“That’s called boarding, FYI.” Kiera said,

“Okay, so I have a bead that says I like boarding, and a guy asks to do that, but I don’t feel like it, what—?”

“What do you mean, don’t *feel* like it? Why wouldn’t you *want* to make a someone come? They usually reciprocate, too. I love coming. Maybe in your world that’s wrong, but—.”

“No, I like an orgasm as much as the next person, but maybe I have a cold, or maybe I just don’t find them attractive, and—.”

“Okay, so on the flight here from Minnesota, I gave the guy sitting next to me *two* handjobs. Some fat businessman, but he asked, so I did it. In that case, no, I didn’t let him fingerbang me, partly because he never offered, but also because he just didn’t get me going, but if the guy sitting across the aisle from me had asked, well, it would have been a *totally* different story. That guy was hot. And yeah, the airlines get all pissy if you get spunk all over their blankets or whatever, so a handy or a blowjob—maybe—is about all you can manage, but fatty just came into an empty water bottle. The flight attendant actually thanked *me* for being considerate.”

“But you pleasured some random guy, some guy you don’t even find attractive…”

“It took about three minutes to make him come. He draped a blanket over himself—the guy was shy—undid his pants, and,” she made a jerk off motion, “there she blows! So, sure, it was kind of rude for him to ask again before landing, but I guess that speaks to the quality of my, well, handiwork.”

“But what if you said no?”

“That’s, I mean, *really*?” She sat up. “That’s against the *law*.”

“Saying *no* is against the law…” Regina said, bewildered.

“I can’t give a guy handjob unless I say I like giving handjobs. A yellow bead. If I do that *without* a yellow bead, I can get fined, just a ticket, but still…you’re basically prostituting yourself at that point. Girls who will *do* anything, usually *charge* for everything. You *have* to indicate what you like. He saw I had a yellow bead, so he could ask for a handjob. For me to say no would make me a liar, could lead to me invalidating my Announcement bracelet. That, in turn, would mean I wasn’t a legal adult, citizen, voter, all of it. That’s crazy. Who would *do* that?”

“But if you can’t say no, what’s to stop someone from raping you?”

“Okay, that’s another word I don’t know.” Kiera said, sitting up. Regina took a moment to look it up on her phone. It took her a minute, but she found an old definition. “Taking sexual gratification by force, for…” She handed back the phone. “That’s, like, a medieval word or something. Prithee, yon Regina, wherest thou raping has commenceth….you might as well be speaking Chinese. If, and I say that purely hypothetically, *if* a guy decided to make you do something not on your announcement bracelet, he would lose Privilege. The whole point of Privilege Night is that a guy can ask for what he wants and can expect to get it, should the bracelet of the girl match up. If you break Privilege, you, again, you’re nothing, nobody…literally can’t work, live anywhere, people can beat the shit out of you without being charged. It’s way worse for men than women. Technically, I could get re-validated, after ten years, but losing Privilege…that’s *permanent*. I saw a movie about it once, but it was so far-fetched I couldn’t finish it. No one, not even a crazy person would do that. Why would you? There’s always someone who will give you what you want. There are dozens of Announcement match websites and apps. I don’t care if you can only come if a girl is wearing a chicken suit, there’s probably someone out there for you.”

“I just…how does a woman get anything done. Aren’t they constantly interrupted with requests?”

“Come on, Regina…” Kiera sighed. “It’s not as if someone can just stop by your desk and work, interrupt what your doing, and bend you over. He asks, you negotiate the time and place. If he’s not happy with the response, he can just try again another day when it’s more convenient for you both. Sure, in leisure time, things might be quick and easy, but everyone still acts like adults, otherwise. The only difference is, now, we’re in college, we don’t really *have* any other responsibilities, so other than in class…well, almost anything goes.”

—-

Regina wasn’t sure that Kiera really believed her story, and god knows she was probably telling people about her crazy roommate as soon as Regina left to find the salon, but Kiera didn’t kick her out in that moment or call the police or anything. The walk across the quad was pleasant, the campus quite beautiful, and the union building was hard to miss. She went up to the third floor and found that half of the floor was occupied by the salon. She walked up to the desk and mentioned she had an appointment. The woman looked her up in the computer, scanned her bracelet, and told her to head for the waiting room. She was given a cup of tea, and five minutes later, another woman came out.

“Miss Trent?” She asked. Regina stood up. “Follow me, please.” She walked behind the woman, and they went into a small locker room. There was another student in a bathrobe who passed them on the way in. “If you’ll get undressed and place your things in the locker, we can get started.” She tapped a locker with her own bracelet and it opened. Regina felt self-conscious, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been to a salon before. She stripped down naked, and the woman looked at her clinically. “Raise your arms.” She did, and the woman looked at her underarms. “No problem there, you need a haircut, but that’s already on the books. Widen your stance for me?” Regina blushed but did as she asked, and again, another woman was touching her, though this was all around her labia, even further back. “And if you’d bend over for me.”

“Really?” Regina asked.

“You have a nice young ass, but I’m not really into girls. I need to see how much the aesthetician needs to do on you.” Regina felt a gloved hand tracing the line of her ass crack. “Should be quick. We can wax today. You don’t have to grow anything out. That’ll make your Dorm Master happy.”

“Don’t you mean Mistress?”

“I went to college before the whole ‘genderization’ thing. Everyone was a Dorm Master just ten years ago. Now? Dorm Mistress, Master? What does it matter?” She handed Regina a pair of slippers and a robe. “Put these on and go back out in the waiting room.” She got dressed and sat back down. Ten minutes later, another woman brought her to a salon chair. They trimmed her hair and washed it, then the woman led her to another lounge chair where a woman wearing a gloves and scrubs looked prepared to wax her and more.

“Take off the robe and sandals, sit on the paper on the chair, and let’s get started.” Regina got naked and climbed up. “You shave at home, huh? Not here, no more.” Regina felt embarrassed, not only that the woman was criticizing her grooming, but touching her down there while doing it. “Based on what we have to work with, I’m assuming we’re waxing, but are you changing your hair color? Tell me now. If you want to go blonde, the head is easy, the bush takes more work.”

“Um, no, I’m fine as it.”

“And you don’t want to schedule gene mods to limit hair growth or change your hair color? There’s already a waiting list.”

“Uhhh…no.” Regina didn’t really have any idea what she was talking about, so she let it go.

“Good, the fact that the curtains need to match the carpet is one of the silliest rules on campus. I mean, we have some natural blondes who also, naturally, have darker hair between their legs. That doesn’t mean they’re not blonde, but who am I to complain? It keeps me employed.” Ten painful minutes later, Regina was walking back to the changing room when she saw Kiera in the waiting room.

—-

“All smooth and sexy?” Kiera asked. Regina nodded, blushing. “Trust me, you don’t want a Dorm Master mad at you.” Regina had no idea why that mattered, but she didn’t want to offend anyone. Kiera leaned in close. “Go get dressed, and I’ll take you down to the bookstore. We can build you a new bracelet, okay?” Regina went in the locker room and tossed her sandals and robe in a bin, padding naked over to her locker and opening it. She saw herself in one of the full-length mirrors and reached down, touching the sensitive but smooth skin between her legs. The woman had done a good job, though talked her ear off. She quickly dressed, admiring her uniformed look in the mirror, and went out to the lobby.

“I’m ready.” Regina said, and Kiera took her down to the bookstore on the first floor. In a far corner, there was a somewhat private are with materials to make or add beads to an Announcement bracelet. “If anyone can look at your bracelet to see what you’re into, why all the secrecy?”

“Wrong. They ask, you answer. It’s trust, but verify. Your phone will take care of most of the work of logging and otherwise, but…eh, this is technical junk.” She waved it off. “The important thing is, the beads are small, the colors kind of blend. It’s hard to get a decent look, particularly if you have more than the traditional eighteen beads—which most people eventually do. There are perverts who try to get complete pictures or maps of a girl’s Announcement bracelet—that’s really big with celebrity porn—but all that can be faked. Still, you have to be up close and personal with someone to see the whole bracelet. And everyone puts the mundane stuff in the most visible positions. Like almost everyone has boarding, handjobs, or oral sex as their most visible beads, right?” She quickly held up her wrist, as if it meant something to Regina. “So, okay, you normally go through all this at your Announcement Party with your Scarf Witnesses, but I need to know what you like.”

“Can’t I just say I like sex, normal stuff, and leave it at that?”

“Not unless all you ever want to do is *masturbate*. Word gets around about girls who are coy, embarrassed, shy about what they really like. Ice queens, stuck up prudes, *asexes*…” She whispered the last word. “That’s a slur, my alien roommate, and one I’ve never really used in anger.” She added. “Yes, if you’re not really into something, don’t add it, but if you’re curious about something and *don’t* add, how will you ever learn?”

“But it’s sexist! Men don’t have to do this.”

“Ask a guy to do almost anything, and he’ll probably say yes…you really are inexperienced if you think otherwise. But, you know, if you were a lesbian, you’d still wear a bracelet. They have it easy, comparatively, same thing with gay men. Some men even choose to wear bracelets, but seriously, getting exactly what you want, every time, *that’s* what I’m jealous of.” She started grabbing beads. None were labelled. “So, let’s say, straight sex…do you like girls?” Regina blushed. “I’m going to say a definite maybe on that one.” Kiera winked and added a pink bead. “Threesomes we already know about, handjobs, blowjobs, all givens…how about people coming on you?” Regina shrugged, and Kiera added another bead to the pile. “Bukkake?” She shook her head. “Rough stuff, rope, any of that area?” She shook her head again. “Your loss, Regina…” She laughed. “Exhibitionism? Regular voyeurism? Digital voyeurism?”

“Wait, how does *that* work?” Regina asked.

“So with the regular version, they ask, and if you have the bead, they can take pics up your skirt, down your blouse…you pretend you don’t notice them doing it, let them see, spread your legs a bit wider, that sort of thing. The digital version, well, they can even go to the IT folks and get access to your webcam, raid the photos on your phone, all sorts of stuff. I used to be into that, but some guys just want you to put a show on for them all the time…really annoying. I mean, this past summer, it’s like, two in the morning, and this guy I liked calls, he’s like, I’m watching you sleep, kick off the covers and fuck yourself. Sure, okay, once or twice, but every night for a week? I was exhausted, and I *like* using my toy, but, wow, let me sleep a little, please?” Regina passed on voyeurism. “Okay, I’m also adding nipple play, fingering, and oral…for women. Those are kind of a given, but I’ve found that when a guy is into that, he’s usually pretty good at it, too.” Regina watched Kiera assemble the beads, slipping them into the metal school bracelet, but also saw that it wasn’t just some craft, there were electronics.

“That’s how everyone is kept honest? This is tracked somehow?” Regina asked.

“Well, yeah, I mentioned the phone thing a moment ago? You register the bravecel via your phone, Bluetooth or something. If it was just a friendship bracelet, then where would we be? Anyone could claim anything. It works by proximity. Someone can’t scan you from across the room, but if an exchange occurs, there’s a record of both parties being cool with it. What are you, some kind of computer geek?”

“No, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all new to you…I’m trying to keep that in mind.” With the bracelet finally assembled, the clerk asked how many beads she bought, and then Regina paid for it. Kiera showed Regina how to register bracelet on the network. “I can’t say you’ll win any prizes for being intriguing, but it’s not a bad collection of beads.”

“Wait, what’s this black one?” Regina asked.

“It’s grey, not black…that’s just the light in here, which, come to think of it, should be better. I mean, you don’t want to get a bead saying you’re into pegging when you’re really into toe-sucking…I think those are both shades of red. Anyway, at Willoughby, we all have to have grey. That’s subservience. It only applies to non-students. Visitors, staff, dorm masters, whatever, they can tell you do things. You know you’re doing it when they call you ‘girl’, it’s like a code phrase. You’d know this if you’d been here on time.” She muttered. “You comply within the scope of the rest of your bracelet, but with the added bonus of power play…So they say, girl, do this, and you do it, saying ‘yes, Mister so and so’ or ‘yes, Miss so and so’…like they’re you master. I mean, you can do that with students, but it’s actually kind of laughable. The grey is just one more reminder of what we’re here for.” Regina felt overwhelmed, but glad that her roommate was being so helpful. They left to go get dinner, and Kiera told her story after story of how, in the short year following her Announcement, what she’d had to with men.

—-

Regina sat at dinner, still trying to work out whether she had suffered a breakdown of some sort, or if she should really start believing her own theories about alternate universes. It didn’t help that Kiera found this all amusing to no end.

“So, humor me, Reg,” she said, already deciding Regina was too much to say, “You drove up here with your mom, no dad in the picture?” Regina shook her head. “And mom was all excited about you attending Willoughby, and you were sort of shrugging it off, right, because you don’t give a crap about school, so you figured mom just pulled a few strings, got you into one of the premiere private colleges in the US, and you figured you’d be just taking classes, math, science, literature, whatever…”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you didn’t think you’d have a Dorm Mistress, you didn’t think the Dean of Academics would be interested in whether or not you recently waxed, you didn’t know about the uniforms, you didn’t know about the bracelets, your beads, none of it.”

“Can you keep your voice down, please?” Regina whispered.

“Oh, whatever…even if some of these others were listening,” she glanced around the room over a forkful of chicken, “they’d think you were writing a science fiction story or something. Do you read that stuff, ray guns, or wizards or whatever? Maybe you’re just remembering some weird story. Did you hit your head recently?”

“Yes, I do read—have read—some of that stuff, but no, I haven’t hit my head, ever, as far I know. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t necessarily remember, but,” she felt the top of her head, “there are no bumps or sore spots.”

“Honestly, I’m half-tempted to believe you. It’s just too much to fake consistently. I mean, sure, there’s a strong possibility you’re outright crazy…the simplest explanation, but I saw the look on your face when that guy wanted to see my bush. You were shocked. I mean, *crackers*,” Regina was starting to realize this was a curse word, though she didn’t know reference, “it wasn’t as if he asked for a handy right there. That would’ve been a bit rude while I was still eating—not to mention it’s still the first day, so it’s against the *rules*—but you get my point.”

“But, you did that to a guy on a plane.”

“That was *before* school started. And that shocked you, too. I mean, you just seem ignorant—not dumb—ignorant in the sense of unknowing of culture, of social norms. I mean, the number of *handjobs* alone I’ve given this summer, it’s a wonder I don’t have carpal tunnel syndrome. But that’s what freaks me out about you, though in a way that makes me *very* curious. For example, pretend it was you on that plane, and you’re sitting next to a guy, and he gets hard, so he leans over and puts your hand on the front of his pants, what would you do next?”

“Are you asking me, or the person I’m supposed to be?” Regina said.

“Gut reaction.”

“I wouldn’t even have let him put my hand on him, and if he had done that, and particularly if I felt he was erect, I probably would have yelled, slapped him, called for security.”

“Wow, just…wow.” Kiera grinned. “You would have assaulted *him* then asked for help…madness.” She leaned forward. “So, just for the sake of experimentation, what do you think this version of you, uniform-wearing and freshly waxed Regina, should’ve done?”

“I don’t really want to think about—.”

“We’re just talking here, Regina. Humor me.”

“He, um, what, would’ve checked my wrist, and they asked me for a hand job or a blowjob or something? Like, if he saw I was okay with whatever, would we have gone into the bathroom or whatever and joined the mile-high club?”

“See!” Kiera, stabbed at the table with her finger. “*That* right there. Mile-high club…? What the hell is that?”

“That’s, um, that when you have sex in an airplane. I’ve never done it, but that’s what they call it.”

“I’ve literally never heard that phrase in my life, though it’s catchy. But this is what’s so striking to me. You’ve learned or remember enough to know about wrist-checking, but you don’t know enough etiquette or laws to realize a handy was *all* you could easily do for him. And like I said, he was a bit rude to ask for another from me. A blow job is feasible, but only on long flights, but sex, anything more than you giving him simple release is against the rules on an airplane. It’s all safety regulations. They can’t have you on your knees near take-off or landing if there’s turbulence, right? They can’t have you squeezing into a bathroom and trying to do it. That’s all crazy. So, you can,” she made a jerk off gesture, “a guy, and usually most of them are shy enough about their cock-size that they want you to do it under a blanket, or maybe there are families nearby, or whatever. Even when there is time for a blow job, people usually just to *finish* a hand job, and so you can catch the come in your mouth. I’ve never done that yet. A lot of work. A guy can’t really ask you to just *start* with a blow job on a plane. Fuck, planes are *always* handies. It’s like saying ‘Good luck’ after someone sneezes. It’s just what you do.” Regina kept her mouth shut on that point. “They don’t even check your wrist beyond seeing if you’re an asex or lesbian, and that’s glaringly obvious. *Everyone* gives hand jobs. So, he puts your hand on his cock because he *knows* you know what to do.”

“I *don’t* know!” Regina snapped. “That’s the point.”

“Well, rule number one, I guess…don’t hit anyone. Seriously, if you don’t know what’s expected, just ask. It’s better to seem naive than accidentally commit a crime and say no.” She looked at her watch. “We should probably get heading back to the dorms. It’s almost seven thirty.”

“So?”

“Weren’t you even paying attention today? The school day is over at eight.”

“And? The dorm mistress said lights out was way later.”

“You have to take off your uniform at eight, dummy.”

“I’m still not following…”

“So, school rules are clear, when the school day is over, you take off the uniform. So, if we were sitting here and it turned eight o’clock, what do you think that means?”

“You…” Regina sputtered. “You can’t be serious?”

“Everything but the shoes and stockings… They’re not going to have you walk barefoot. So, yes, you want to be back in your dorm by eight, or you want to have your pajamas with you to change into. I mean, in the winter, some people might just wear a long winter coat or something, naked underneath, but you’re still going to be cold.”

“No, you’re going to be naked!” Regina said.

“Oh, man, I just realized…you have the one uniform, don’t you, *just* that one?”

“Yes, Mr. Gunderson and the Dean got it for me today. That was embarrassing enough.”

“So, what are you going to wear tomorrow, and the day after that? *Especially* after it gets dirty. And what about your pajamas, did you buy those, too?”

“I have my own pajamas.”

“School-issued, Regina. The only time you’re allowed to wear your own clothes is after eight on Friday, and no later than eight on Sunday.”

“You can’t be serious. School-issued pajamas?”

“If it makes you feel any better, you have more choices than the uniform, but yeah, we have to get you to the uniform shop,” she looked at her watch again, “and fast. I like you, Reg, but I am not marching across campus with my clothes in a bundle because *you* forgot to go shopping.”

“I didn’t know!” Regina protested. Kiera shook her head but was half-smiling.

**End Part 2**

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/a575cz/far_away_at_willoughby_academy_part_2