The Princesses in the Tower Ch. 01-02

Disclaimer: All characters over 18

Zita

I tried to finally relax, all the sounds, one after another, aside. Breathing calmly, mud all over and around me, I've herd movement in the safe distance. When I understood the match is over, I actually freezed even more and I waited when they will tell us to stand.

As it turned down, they didn't bother. The ships engine came and stopped and those who didn't go on their own, were just taken in the big muscled up arms. That meant I enjoyed unpleasant bits of squeezing in the places the guard found pleasant. After that I had even smaller will to move in the boat anymore, straightening my legs only when it docked inside, far from lustful spectators. Our ballgags were removed and I was one little step closer to real humanity.

"Most of you were adequate, girls," said the female warden. "There will be no punishments given and four people will be rewarded along with receiving plenty of points in gymnastics and entertainment value. The queens are now at the top of these scores and being treated separately."

She continued by congratulating those four persons, including the woman who kicked me from the rope. From what others were whispering, rewards were probably going to be some extra food and a little time in a park zone. Now we all were going to be escorted to the hot showers to wash away remnants of our muddy defilement. Freeing my skin and hair from the dirt was another liberating moment. Our sport dresses and paws handed over, bodies could soon enjoy comfort of warm white bathrobes and we had half an hour of rest on camp beds. It didn't matter how crammed they were to each other on the corridor.

Following the wardens stoically, I was sure the match was not going to be single rough part of the day. Instead of our rooms we were led into facility's large medical section, my nude figure ending on a chair, opposite to face of the female gynecologist and the monitor.

Slowly I spread my legs and let the doctor stick a tiny Vaginal photoplethysmography probe into my womanhood in order to measure erotic desires. The screen showed me series of scantily clad gentlemen and ladies in a very provocative poses, during which I felt the predictable and affirmed result. I was perfectly aroused by guys, never by gals. As I understood it, if I was found to be bisexual, I would automatically gained points in both entertainment value and applicability. As a pure lesbo I would be considered entertaining too, but with some warnings about intimacy duties. They escorted me back to the room, where exhausted Therese and Barbara were chatting quietly.

"Get into your school uniforms, little misses. You have an education class almost immediately." With uniforms like these I wondered if we shouldn't simply walk into class in underwear. Skirt covered mine and Barbara's buttocks, but not much else. Then we had a black top with a green pattern and major cleavage that had also push up effect on our young breasts. If I was different ethnicity I would feel as exploited image of girl in anime. At least the shoes didn't have high heels.

Escorted, we arrived in a room on a bottom floor. Clean and sterile, it had a large window, wide flat viewscreen and translucent globe, positioned inside of the holoprojector. Girls ranging from eighteen to twenty years old were sitting down next to odd looking desk with an exercise book and pen but followed by part skewed slightly up, so it looked to me, as if I was behind some mute piano. This time I have chosen place as behind as I could. The anti-nerd.

The whole thing was well synchronized. The last girl wasn't even sitting for five minutes and the teacher came in. Must have been teacher, because I doubt we were visited by the charismatic car thief. Considering guy's features I could mistake him for warden in civil. Golden hair and goatee looked kinda nice and he might be barely into his 30's, but here it would be foolish to like any authority. We were supposed to do our minimum, just like now, when we stood up.

"Sit girls and be aware what's for you under the desk. We were confused for a while, just for a short moment. There was actually very obvious what is under the desk. The chain, not a very long one, ending with a cuff around the wooden leg.

"There's a key attached. Take it and lock the thing around your ankle. Then give it to me and I will return them at the lesson's conclusion. "

"No... I will not go away! "I just said it as innocently as I was able to.

"It's important symbol, little hussy, you are supposed to feel it, not just being told about it." As he was saying those words, I was locking it, scared that I talked back on my very first day. It wasn't like my leg was cut off or anything. The keys ended up in envelope which rattled on the teachers table.

"Girls, we will not lose more time than necessary. My name is Brandon Weatherby, I am already acquainted with your names and I am not going to use them. Brotherhood doesn't want to take the right of education from you, but it doesn't consider it the most important curriculum, so the lessons must be a little condensed. Today I will give you some facts from the area of History and Geography. Eventually we will see each other in the field of English and Literature. And of course I am to be your official mentor on the subject of Androcentrism. "

I squeaked. "Obviously, you are the perfect shapeable material. I must remind you that even outside of these classes you are supposed to be looking for clues in your everyday suggestions. You are wearing the good revealing clothes so you will not forgot the position of seductress, ever ready to fulfil man's enjoyment both passive and active receiving his life force and eventually become gate for his children to this world. You are chained to a piece of furniture as a sign that just like babies will need your milk, the inanimate objects will need attention in order to function and look good. And to make something clear, you are not supposed to be spoiled, but sharply made aware when you have done mistake. As stands in Vows of Brotherhood's Woman: "I'll please him, or I'll be punished ". For which the school spankings are ideal. "He took a long wooden ruler from the table. Wait, I mentioned ruler just yesterday. Dumb mouth!

"This thing will be your medicine for bad student performance." He put it back on the table and took strap, small, but with holes. "And this one will taste your butt, if you will misbehave. Of course I can always simply use my hand for smaller transgressions. With harsher implements you will be trained in the other courses. And yes girls, every time it will be on bare... I will see everything, that's why I took this job. "

Next ninety minutes were sometimes interesting, other times we were in the clear trap again. History lessons were about The English Civil War. I never told anyone, but in combination with Henry VIII's era this has always made me chuckle over joke that Yakov Smirnoff almost might make: "In the sixteenth century the King executes Cromwell. In the seventeenth century Cromwell executes the King ". Geography happened to be Brotherhood's propaganda. We were being assured that the organization improved lives of people in the North America or how young men in Western Europe are gaining the best skills and character in the Paladin institute (they loved this romanticized medieval symbolism so much), how even traditionally neutral Switzerland became the seat of many key activities and countries of Central and Eastern Europe were going to join in no time. Holographic images were illustrating the points around the parts of the world crucial for the discussion.

Taking the notes as usual, I hoped they will not brainwash many of us, although I also had no idea how long the Brotherhood is gonna last. The very question was obviously frightening. At the end of the lesson, we were looking forward to take our new exercise book and leave for the lunch. That was before we noticed Weatherby has not just envelope with our keys in the hand. "It would be pity if our first class was too comfortable for you, girls. As I told you about future spankings, you should find what they might be about and I must reward myself a little. So, skirts up, panties down and offer yourself for five meetings with the strap! "

Oh crap. So the desk was made to present our butts a little better. Well, hiking up my miniskirt didn't take too long, but pulling panties down was harder, more conscious and so embarrassing. Trying to do it slowly didn't work out, so I just pulled them in one quick movement just before my body landed on the desk.

There goes my decision to sit behind. I had now decorative look on two rows of upturned bottoms and plenty of time for waiting to my turn. Weatherby obviously wanted to make impression like a professional disciplinarian. The arm holding the strap did always a mighty arch and almost always perfectly adhered to the shape of unfortunate ass in question. Truly unfortunate, since Weatherby wanted every strike to count, but had limited himself to only five, which was probably the reason why he didn't alternate too much and concentrated usually on one butt-spot. My classmates were whimpering sometimes after the second or the third stroke, rarely from the beginning, but only two or three stayed silent all the way through. Some red hair did frantic "Ouch! No! Stop this!" only when one stroke was remaining. She was more lucky than girl who almost fell sideways when the third stroke was delivered. Our teacher held her more tightly on the back and instead of being satisfied with the usual sentence he spread his fingers on the right hand and gave her sound slap, pretty much completing "six of the best ". Barbara was one of fully heroic ones. Red skin didn't stay here for long. After thrashing and inevitable rubbing, each victim got the key, undid the chain and marched from the classroom on a careful steps.

When he get to me, I bit my lip, trying not to move at all costs.

Ssswhack! God, this hurts! Be brave, Zita, although you haven't done anything to deser...

"Owww!" I yelped. Is the strap on flames?

Smack! This is like something vicious bite me. Help me out, somebody!

The fourth stroke might have been weaker, but it stung on the sensitive place. Weatherby put a left arm on my back to deliver the fifth stroke. Aaargh, fuck! Do I bleed there, already?

Weatherby wasn't letting me free.

"Come to think about this, Ms. was a little rebellious, so let's force questioning spirit out of her."

He smacked me with the bare hand. Centre of the pain protested to no avail and fingers spread the throbbing feelings further. I was crying out of humiliation. And yes, he caressed my burning ass... And smacked it once more. There was not point of dreaming about freedom and he evidently agreed. Out of side of the desk, he pulled out long piece of leather, immediately securing my waist with it.

"We have a several kinds of detention," he informed me. "This one at least doesn't torment your bottom anymore. You will stay here for one hour. I will let you go straight to the room, where you will be given smaller portion of the lunch. "

I laid with exposed sore behind and more troubling thoughts than usual. This must not continue. Women deserve better, because humans deserve better and shitty attitudes lead only to something even worse. Just... I was impressed with the force used to subdue me. Arms, stronger than mine will ever be, have done a lot of work to put me in my place. I was unsure why my brain must project chauvinistic language into me. Yes, the spanking did hurt, but it also was done with a certain class and structure, far away from horrible things I heard some fathers and mothers were capable of. Though I was trying not to think about my bigger friends who have now must been forced into sex.