**Barbara**
This was a messy day and I didn´t know, why we must go to the class. There was so late already! Standing back on the feet, I imagined how they actually could hogtie us and suspended on something we would be taken in front of the bathroom. Am I supposed to think as a sadistic weirdo for them?
Tired or not, I moved energetically to relieve myself of the shame I was plunged into. In fact, I reported first for removal of the pig tail and felt indescribable relief when they allowed us to wash ourselves. We young ones looked ridiculous. I mean, big ones looked ridiculous too, but I could see them in a kinky scenario. They made us into plain parodies! Nothing today felt sweeter than saying adieu to “Throw away meat” over my chest. Still, being clean wasn´t enough. I tried to picture mom and dad by my sides, her with short and curly hair pushing the clarinet and coaxing the favourite tones, him conducting this exact wife´s work. Zita started to hum after me as well, we two have composed nice prelude to our first chemistry lesson. I have gave mom and dad the window ledge to sit, while I and Zita took the seats and chains in the front, which haven´t yet completely stopped making us uncomfortable.
No matter how the enthusiastic female in the white coat tried, I couldn´t care less about the different kinds and interactions of the substances. What I liked was accidental. Truthfully, considering how the molecules are drawn I wished somebody would give me pendant looking like that. Or maybe I could see them as a black pattern on motley clothes. This isn´t surely something they want us to learn much about anyway. They surely don´t desire us being able to put together suffragette explosives.
My beloved pictures had to go away, accompanying speeches I transcribe, but don´t entirely understand. What were they saying the next class is about? Aaah, the literature. Another of Weatherby´s subjects. Yesterday I had single happy thought. That for the first time in my life I wanted to bone my teacher. Whenever he looked into my direction, I was searching in his eyes for some evidence that he fancies round bodies.
Today he was preparing something new in advance. From the drawer he took technical components and assembled them into device similar in appearance to small printer with a two folders. He pulled out bundle of papers from his briefcase and pushed so much buttons I had to make my bogus dad sing alongside to bogus mom playing.
“I have a test for you today, so your level of knowledge will be revealed. Take it seriously!”
Twenty a-b-c questions about the books from one hundred years ago. I was made to read a lot of these by my folks and still remember basics about the authors.
Weatherby collected the tests and put them into the device. One after another, the pages were swallowed by it and returned on the underneath folder. Marked, I suppose.
Teacher get hold of a ruler before did the same with the papers again.
“Now lay down, girls, you will suffer the consequences. Penalty is three strokes per mistake.”
He had us on silver plate before we saw what is on store for us. I did… Two mistakes. Zita did one. Phew, it won´t be that long.
Weatherby had clear technique he had followed for each point. He propped up the ruler on the punished area and bounced on it fast. He always went right cheek, then left cheek and finally the upper thighs. Zita shed a tear, but I endured it completely. Some characters might be ruined by whooping, others might benefit from it. I will attempt to get into the latter group.
Many girls had bigger gaps in their knowledge. If only it simply stopped and we could return to normal school business, I was more and more tired. Phantom mom came to me and I let her to pet on my head. No, I can´t be content with her… I need to see the real deal and I don´t want to wait the whole two years!
Someone on the Weatherby´s way got into heavy trouble. Her voice was carrying more and more of pain, the ruler rotating behind her and increasing the speed.
“Sixteen mistakes is not just stupidity! That is impudence against education and the wrong morals. To the Lighthouse was written by Kipling? Virginia Woolf would cry, if she saw you!”
Weatherby actually returned for a key and undid her chain. He pulled her first by the ear, then by her arm. She was practically flying, her panties barely holding, before made to stand in front of the desks.
“Grab your ankles!”
She obeyed and bowed head with a cut hair to the floor. Weatherby prescribed her ten strokes with a strap, made her bawl and fight with buckling legs. My God, this is like watching some adulteress on market place in the Middle Ages.
Weatherby pointed out to Zita and one pupil behind us.
“Two smart ones will help me to teach lesson to this dumb one. Take that thing in the corner and unpack it….”
Head girls come reluctantly with some giant yellow sissel mat with a few holes and some scarves. The victim of extra-long punishment had to lay on it, bottom pushed into surface, of course. Hands and legs were bond by scarves on the other side. Weatherby and the girls hang the mat on the hook on the wall, undiscerned until this moment. Harrowing figure couldn´t even wipe her tears, she was just swallowing them. Needless to say, this warning to us all made listening about literature significantly harder. Phantom parents to the rescue – I can listen to that heavenly sound inside me till the lesson is over. Zita will have all the needed notes.
“You have the hour for counselling. After that we shall meet at the basic introduction to The New Androcentrism lessons.” We could use some counselling, although it would suit me as the last stop of the day.
Weatherby released the girl from the mat, shaked her whole body and reminded her to study better. Almost all of us clustered around her. Wardens permitted it for a moment. Her name was Julie and she wanted to go home.
I can relate.
“We will teach you about the lit”, I offered and Zita gave us thumbs up.
“Screw the books.”
She might change her mind later.
The assigned part of the corridor had limited pieces of furniture; we tended to sit simply on the floor, so this had annoying resemblance to kindergarten. We were there greeted the woman around fifty wearing dangling green coat, who handed out us hot cocoa all by herself.
“Say hello to Clara, girls”, she said, eyes watching more the rising smoke than our faces.
“I´m sure you are now missing a lot of things. Liberty, the close ones and so on. Together, we might raise a mindset to concentrate on the positives. Now, drink, so you have a lot of endorphins.
She drunk from the cup of her own in a pose of devout reverence. We followed the lead.
“I believe that when resting in your rooms, you don´t havea shortage of anything.”
“Except we mustn´t cover ourselves!“, objected one of us.
“That is matter of convention, not a need. One of the subjects you are going to be re-educated about. Any other desires?”
Can´t you respond to everything in this way?
“Contact with home!”
There, I said that.
“You know how many messages and calls we would have to control, dear?”
Brutal honesty.
“Homesickness can be serious defect during any transfer. Talk to your peers, bond with your roommates, work with what you are given here.”
Beatings, touchings and fatigue.
“There is a relaxing weekend ahead of us, but the first chance to clean your mind will be right now! I´ll call each of you to my office to sort it out in a more direct way.”
The door aren´t absolutely soundproof and we haven´t been fighting our natural curiosity about all the hearings the way trough. Truth to be told, we were hardly reminiscent of pals, who want to strengthen their friendship.
Inside Clara´s office Julie started to cry again, but at the end got perfectly calm. Zita was always stable, temporarily negotiating something with Clara. Some girls stayed silent and Clara simply sent them away. My turn came like second to last.
“Ms. Pignon.”
Clara let me settle on a wing chair just like she had.
“So, my dear… Can I call you Barbs?”
“Yes.”
“I am sure, it must have been unusual to ride here and seeing your four friends for the first time. Ms. Woodroof was reserved, but looked happy and told me others have maybe minor problems. How would you evaluate your roommates’ feelings?”
I could not lie too much about something so overwhelming.
“There´s one who feels life was stolen from her, other simply doesn´t talk too much and Mrs. Thompson is very angry. Zita would like to study as she did before, I guess.”
“Mrs. Thompson´s opinions are foreseeable… And you, Barbs? You´ve sounded like you are missing a lot.”
I simply nodded.
“Your former life couldn´t be perfect. You must love your parents, but they let you feed into this almost obese figure.”
Tears moisted my eyes and I wasn´t stopping them.
“W-why are you slandering them?!”
Clara looked satisfied for a moment.
“You mustn´t see it that way, Barbs! Our progenitors aren´t only people worthy to lead us. We have so much brainy heads here and they can help you become mother yourself one day.”
“Would I be able to hear from them?” I had to repeat that.
“If you will behave and cooperate, we might paraphrase them some of your words. You should also be informed that in the opposite case, they might be held responsible. Supposedly, close ones of the inmates are pretty much always on the verge of exile. Fortunaly, unlike you, they wouldn´t be for much worse.”
“Tha-tha-t is monstrous!”
“Barbs, I must tell you that some of my colleagues’ have always cruel and often unusual ideas about punishments. You might have heard about disciplining of inmates who refused the Lovemaking lessons. The Tower has already installed courtyard with pole, planned for some parts of Holy Submission, but when we looked at it on our meeting, someone got the idea that forced bestiality might take place there and that is on the table ever since.”
I was surprised by the word. The meaning eluded me, but I knew it once.
Bestiality is…
Bestiality is…
When the thought finally arrived into the socket in my brain, I got up from the wing chair so swiftly that I staggered and pushed one of its legs. I haven´t noticed it fell down on ground, since the last thought made me yell in a high pitch. I stubbed my toe instead of stumbling over it thanks to the Clara ´s hands tugging me on the shoulders of my uniform. She gave me glass of water and assured me: “We haven´t put it to vote yet.”
The girls outside were asking why I went on the rampage. Their questions remained unanswered. That last drop wasn´t the only terrible thing the hag said.
They want me to study their Androcentrism subject, but I understand it now, even before entering the classroom. I don´t have to be some scientist. They want me to act as they wish. I have pictured mom and dad standing between me and the door, unwilling to let me open. If somebody blackmails them, he is not worthy to direct my life!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gd7t3y/the_princesses_in_the_tower_chapter_2_part_3