New Girl at St Justine's, Volume 1

by Victor Bruno

  “NOOOOOO ... OOOOOOOO ...” repeated Fiona in that same agonised, groaning way.

  Then she suddenly looked wildly round the room, as if seeking help ... or a way of escape.

  “No way out,” smiled the woman. “And doubtless Madame Duerrisse told you that even an attempt at escaping earns the culprit a public birching.”

  Fiona froze. Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed heart-rendingly. The woman, who was Miss Hester Greve, form-mistress of Grade I, folded her arms and waited patiently. She was quite natural. Not at all a pleasant thing for a young lady to find herself imprisoned in a place like St Justine’s!

  “Uuurrrfff ... uuurrrfff ... uuuuurrrrffff ... uuurrrfff ...” sobbed Fiona.

  She wanted to shut her mind off from the horror.

  She wanted to shut out the world.

  But she could not.

  The sickening sight of Diane’s writhing, weal-striped bottom kept coming into her mind’s eye. And that mention of a public birching!

  Oh dear God!

  Now it could happen to her!

  It must be a nightmare! It must! It must!

  She felt a sting in her left arm ... and took away her hands. She saw the woman had just jabbed her with a hypodermic needle.

  “W-What ... mmmmfff ... w-what ... h-have ... mmmfff ... mmmfff ... you d-done?” she sobbed. She could scarcely see for her tears.

  “Just given you something to calm you down a little,” said the woman. She faced Fiona with folded arms, she wore a simple white blouse and black skirt. The only unusual thing about her garb was the very high-heeled calf-length boots she wore, they were extremely highly polished. “My name is Miss Hester.” she went on. “I shall be your form mistress. Grade I. And, by the way, Fiona, from now on, you always address me as ‘Miss’. Don’t forget that. The Headmistress you address as ‘Ma’am’.”

  Fiona was shaking her head silently from side to side as if in disbelief. No, it wasn’t a nightmare. This was reality. Hideous reality!

  “Oh ... no ... ooo ...” she moaned to herself. “How could he do this to me! The monster ... oh the wicked old monster!”

  “Did you hear what I said, Fiona?” asked Hester. Her voice had suddenly taken on a keener edge.

  Fiona looked up, eyes brimming with tears. They were deep blue eyes. Lovely eyes. The perfect complement to her ash-blonde hair.

  She shook her head. “No-No .. not really ...” The sedative was beginning to work. She had stopped that hysterical sobbing but was still breathing rather fast., Her hands had gone back over her firm, high breasts.

  Hester repeated the information she had just given. “Do you understand, Fiona?”

  The blonde nodded. “Yes ...” she said dully.

  Hester’s right palm slapped hard across Fiona’s left cheek. Then as her head jerked to the right, Hester gave her a back-hander to have it jerk back again. “Obviously you do not!” she rasped as Fiona uttered two shocked cries at the stinging slaps. Fury filled her. How dare this vile woman strike her? Fiona leapt from the couch and hurled herself at the powerful-looking figure before her.

  But, to her startled amazement, her hands and body seemed to hit something solid ... and she slumped to the floor. Weeping with anger and frustration, Fiona recalled Madame Duerrisse’s words about ‘Pupils’ being unable to harm either themselves or others. She had been brain-washed!

  Then she felt a hand grasping her hair and, painfully, she was pulled to her feet. “P-Please ... p-please ... let go ...” she wailed.

  Holding her there by the hair, Hester slapped her face again. Once ... twice ... hard.

  “If you ever try that again, my girl, you’ll be sent straight for a caning. And a good one at that!” The green eyes were glinting like emeralds. Jewel-like. Cold.

  It seemed to Fiona that ice-water had begun to flow through her veins. She found she was trembling uncontrollably. A caning! Oh dear God, no! Over that leathern Horse. Oh dear God, no! I must be careful. Or they will do it. I know they will. I must do as they say. Or they will do it. The terror ... the realisation of her peril ... showed in her eyes.

  Hester smiled faintly. “You don’t like the idea of that, do you Fiona? You’ve seen a girl getting a caning from the Headmistress, haven’t you? You’ve seen what it does to her bottom?”

  Fiona was still being held by her hair. She shuddered uncontrollably.

  “Any attempt to attack a member of the Staff - even though it is bound to fail - earns the girl a caning. Usually twenty four strokes. The point is, that sort of attack shows the wrong attitude in a pupil. A girl should be respectful of her betters, not resentful. Do I make myself clear, Fiona?”

  “Yes ...” nodded Fiona. “Yes, Miss!” she added quickly, seeing Hester’s palm moving.

  “Good ... good ...” said Hester. The palm was lowered. “Well, Fiona, now you can put your school uniform on, while I go and get you a copy of the School Rules and Regulations. These you will learn this morning ... and I will test you on them later in the day. Tomorrow you will be ready to join your class. There is your uniform.” Hester pointed to scanty, brief items lying on a chair. The same sort of things Fiona had seen Diane wearing.

  Hester released her hair and, with a deep moan, Fiona buried her face in her hands again.

  “I want you dressed by the time I get back,” said Hester. “Let there by no delay. I don’t want to start by having to give you a strapping!”

  No sooner had the door closed than Fiona almost sprang at the items on the chair. Humiliating they may be, but she knew she had to get them on fast.

  Or else!

  She was aware, even in those early moments, that she was under a regime of terror. Fight it and she would suffer horribly. Bend to it and she would suffer less. That was clear to her already. It was a sick-making idea. It was inhuman. Yet she could not get away from the terrifying facts, she had to accept them and adapt to them.

  Suspender belt. Black. Frilly edged. She fastened it around her slim waist.

  Black stockings. Sleek, expensive ones. Rather sexy. Fiona slid them on. Clipped the suspenders. Something rather unusual. She was used to tights.

  Tiny little briefs. Absurd things. Powder blue, she noted. Not like the white ones Diane had been wearing. She pulled them on to herself wriggling and tugging.

  They were ridiculous. Why bother really? Yet she had to accept them.

  Next, the half-cup brassiere. Uplifting her already high breasts further. Yet leaving the nipples exposed ... nipples which would be prominent through the white, see-through blouse Fiona put on next.

  Humiliating.

  Finally the short, black gym-slip.

  Somehow even more humiliating.

  How absurd to be dressed as a schoolgirl at twenty one years of age!

  She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. Bitterly she recalled how she had almost sniggered when she had seen Diane dressed like that. Now she only felt the searing shame of it and, bursting into tears, flung herself face down on the couch. Her young back heaved with her heart-rending sobs; the leathern top became wet with her tears.,

  “You stand up when I come into a room,” said a voice behind her. Miss Hester was back and a shaft of dread went through Fiona. She twisted up and around, face red and swollen. Then she stood up. The red-headed woman gazed at her. “A good fit,” she remarked with a trace of a smile. That was, of course, a mockery of the truth as far as that tight-fitting, short-length outfit was concerned! “Here are the School Rules and Regulations, Fiona. They are in a loose-leaf file because the Governor is constantly amending them or adding to them. You will learn them by heart and I will test you on them later in the day.”

  Fiona took the file. It was quite bulky. The Governor. That was her Uncle Erik. It was still impossible to believe he had done this
terrible thing to her. “Thank you ...” she said automatically. A pause. “M-Miss ... sss ...” she added with a sudden rush. How difficult it was to get used to this new way of life!

  “You have three hours,” said Hester. Then she turned and was gone. The door closed and Fiona did not even go to see if ti were locked. The words ‘publicly birched’ still loomed horribly in her mind.

  She felt a chill stealing over her whole being as she read through the first typed page.

  Reveille was at 8 am. Then there was half an hour for showering, making-up, dressing and so on. Then breakfast. General Assembly at 9.15. First class was at 9.30. One hour long. Followed by two more of an hour each. A Schedule for the week was attached. Fiona studied it, trying to memorise it. But it was so difficult.

  Her brain seemed composed of cotton-wool. The shock of events made it so difficult to concentrate. But she tried her best.

  There was a section of Dress and Fiona studied it with growing bewilderment.

  Colour of knickers and Brassieres (it began).

  Monday: White.

  Tuesday: Powder Blue (it must be Tuesday then, she thought).

  Wednesday: Powder Pink.

  Thursday: Pale Purple.

  Friday: Black.

  Rest Days: Optional.

  How absurd it was, she reflected. Why bother with all those colours? What difference did it make? The words ‘discipline’ drifted into her mind. Yes ... that had something to do with it.

  Corsets (it continued). All girls will wear a cincher-corset throughout every Wednesday, except when exercising or playing sports.

  Girls are permitted night-dresses. These will be of the same colour as the knickers of the day.

  Tennis dresses will be worn on the courts, but no knickers.

  Black leotards will be worn for gym.

  White singlets and briefs will be worn for athletics.

  However, Cross Country runs will be carried out with all girls naked.

  Note: Any errors in dress will be immediately punished by Form Mistresses. As will any untidiness as regards dress. Repeated errors or untidiness will be reported to the Headmistress who will act accordingly.

  Any girl tearing her knickers during a punishment in class will remove them ... and have to repair them during the evening rest period. If they are beyond repair, the girl will receive an additional punishment and be issued with a new pair.

  Fiona found herself quaking inside. These punishments were referred to in such a matter-of-fact way. As if there was nothing to them. Yet how barbaric it was to beat young women!

  Then Fiona’s mind performed a sort of somersault. Who was she to point a finger? Had she not planned to send Belinda to St Justine’s? Remorse and guilt flooded her.

  Her heart leapt to her throat, sank down again, and began to pound furiously. A sickness rose within her. For the next page was simply headed:

  PUNISHMENTS

  And she could scarcely bear to read it. Yet she did ...

  It started with a note:

  All Punishments may be awarded on both buttocks and backs and fronts of thighs. This is at the discretion of the Form Mistress or Head Mistress. The only exception to this is BIRCHING, which will be given solely on the buttocks.

  BIRCHING

  This is the most serious Punishment so will only be awarded for the most serious offences. It can be awarded by the Governor or the Headmistress.

  Minimum number of strokes EIGHTEEN. Maximum THIRTY SIX. All such Punishments will be given publicly, the culprit being secured naked to a Horse in the Assembly Hall.

  (Fiona had to close her eyes before going on. She felt sicker than ever).

  CANING

  Again, this is awarded by the Governor or the Headmistress only, though Form Mistresses may make recommendations. Minimum number of strokes TWELVE. Maximum THIRTY SIX. CANINGS will be administered in the Headmistress’s Punishment Room, the culprit naked and secured to a Horse. However, in special cases, the Headmistress may decide that the CANING be administered publicly 9in the same fashion as for BIRCHING).

  STRAPPING

  In general, STRAPPING is reserved for class rooms. STRAPS will be of three kinds: single, double and triple thonged. All eighteen inches long and a quarter of an inch thick.

  ALL STRAPS will be oiled morning and evening. This will be the duty of the monitor of the day.

  Minimum number of strokes: THREE. Maximum TWELVE. These limitations apply to any three-hour lesson or training session. If a Form Mistress deems the maximum of TWELVE is insufficient punishment, she may ask permission of the Headmistress to exceed it. Alternatively, she may send the pupil to the Headmistress with recommendation for a CANING.

  SWITCHING

  In General SWITCHING is reserved for Gym Training Sessions. SINGLE strokes may be given during exercising up to a maximum of TWELVE. However, the same provisions apply as in STRAPPING.

  The SWITCH will be three feet in length. Made of very slim whalebone plaited with fine leather.

  PADDLING

  In General PADDLING is reserved for Tennis, Athletics or other outdoor activities (Except Cross Country, see below). Minimum and Maximum as for STRAPPING. Except Tennis, when Punishment is graded according to result of a Set.

  SIX strokes for losing set plus extra strokes according to margin of loss IE. A 6-0 loss earns an extra SIX strokes. Same provisos as for

  CROPPING

  This in general is reserved for Cross Country Running ing. ONE stroke for girl placed 13th ... increasing to TWELVE for girl placed last.

  Note: Except for girls confined to the Sanatorium, no Healing Ointment may be applied until 7.30 pm in the evening.

  Aghast, feeling her very entrails seeming to quiver, Fiona read the page again. She could scarcely believe her eyes. It was all so incredible. So utterly inhuman. Could it really be true? Then she recalled the treatment of Diane.

  Of course it was true ...

  Her head sunk down and she burst into tears, wetting the page beneath her.

  It was a long time before she could bring herself to continue reading.

  ***

  The door opened with unexpected suddenness and Fiona started. Has three hours passed already? She sprang up, trying to collect her thoughts. She was about to be tested on the Rules and Regulations!

  “Follow me, Fiona,” ordered Hester and turned on her heel, not even looking to see if the girl did so. Fiona hurried, teetering out of the room on her unaccustomed high heels. Fear was mounting in her. At any moment she expected to see other pupils and that somehow scared her. That would absolutely confirm the awful reality of St Justine’s. However, she saw none ... for they were all at lunch. Fiona’s heels clattered loudly on the tiled floor as they made their way along various corridors. So did the heels of Hester’s boots.

  They came to a plain brown door. Grade I it said on it. Hester opened it. “This is your classroom,” she announced. The sickness rose once more in Fiona; she was cold with dread, scarcely daring to look. But empty, the room looked very like any ordinary classroom in a girl’s public school.

  Except for one thing.

  Or rather, several things ... which hung, or stood, on the far side of the Form Mistress’s desk. There was some kind of stepped stool, with a front to it. On the wall facing it, hung three straps. Single, double and triple-thonged; each attached to a short, polished wood handle. Once again Fiona almost wet herself. This was the true horror of the reality!

  Hester marched across the room to the contrivance. “Come over here, Fiona,” she ordered sharply.

  Heart hammering, Fiona hesitantly obeyed.

  “Kneel on that stool, Fiona ... and take your knickers down,” with no more concern than if she were asking the girl to open a book at a certain page.

 
It was, of course, the first time Fiona had ever heard the dread command. Though she would hear it many, many times in future! She uttered a shocked gasp and her hand went to her mouth. Terror filled her and, at the same time, she found herself flushing with shame.

  “Did you hear me, girl?” An edge to Hester’s voice.

  “W-Why m-must I ... what ... h-have I d-done?”

  “Nothing yet ...”

  “P-Please ... M-Miss ... p-please ... w-what are you going to d-do ... oo?”

  “Test you on the School Rules and Regulations. Come along, do as I say.”

  “P-Plee ... e-ease ... don’t ...” began Fiona tremulously.

  Hester’s eyes flashed and she seized the girl’s blonde hair, shaking her vigourously. “Listen, Fiona,” she rasped, “the penalty for disobedience in this place is a caning! Do you want one now? I can arrange it!”

  A shaft of the purest terror went through Fiona. She knew now, full well, why she had been shown that film of Diane’s punishment. It had been to put the fear of God into her. And it had succeeded. She knelt on the leather top of the stool step and, sobbing ... feeling the terrible humiliation of it ... tugged down her tiny knickers.

  “Right down to your knees, girl ...”

  Fiona pushed the little powder blue briefs right down.

  “Now lean slightly forward, over that front part ...”

  “P-Pleee ... eease ...”

  “Do it! I won’t warn you again!”

  Another shaft of terror. Fiona bent forward so that the top of the front part dug into her belly.

  “Now put your wrists into those two small metal half-circles you see below you ...”

  A kind of panic gripped Fiona. Only the greater dread of being sent to the Headmistress forced her to do as she was told. For the purpose of those rings was obvious. Hester pressed something at the side of the contraption, there was a click and Fiona felt cold steel bracelets pinioning her wrists.