Laura: An Age Play Romance

by Wild, Lucy

  But as it turned out, I was as wrong as it is possible to be. For upon arrival at Coldwater Academy, it was soon apparent that it was not children waiting to be nursed and educated, but ourselves.

  Chapter 2

  When the carriage came to a halt that evening, we had picked up two more women by the names of Abigail and Rebecca. That evening we were all put up in a coaching inn, spending the night enduring a thin stew by a feeble fire. The next morning, we went on with fresh horses, arriving later that day at a gatehouse blocking a long sweeping track that curved into woodland. The driver cursed gatekeeper for taking his time emerging from his hut, aiming a blow at him with his whip as we passed through and onto the private drive.

  There were a number of gentle bends through the thick wood before we emerged and the drive straightened out, passing between two rows of lime trees. Leaning out of the window I caught sight of the enormous red brick house before us. A white door sat at the top of wide stone steps. Two rows of tall windows mirrored each other perfectly either side of the door. There were three floors in all and the roof held a number of statues. As we moved closer I could see they were identical marble fountains, carved to make it appear as if water were about to run down the walls of the house.

  The carriage came to a halt by the front steps as a butler emerged from the house and stood waiting on the step. “Lord Hawthorne has not yet returned,” he said to the driver as we waited inside the carriage.

  “That is not my concern,” the driver replied. “I must be on. There’s another batch to collect and the horses need changing.”

  The butler seemed to think for a moment before speaking. “Very well, for now I will take care of them.”

  He called into the house and two maids ran out, collecting our cases and heaving them inside. “Out you get,” the driver said, pulling open the door and waiting for us to emerge. Once the four of us had stepped down onto the gravel, he closed the door and climbed back into place, urging the horses on towards an archway to the right of the house, the sound of stables coming from beyond.

  “This way,” the butler said, turning from us and walking into the house.

  “Where are our bags?” Abigail asked as we passed through the doorway into a cavernous entrance hall.

  The butler spun round and grabbed her by the wrist. “You will soon learn that you are not here to ask questions, you are here to learn.”

  “Ow, let go of me. That hurts.”

  “Good, if it did not you would think questioning authority was an acceptable way to begin your time here.” He pushed her away from him and as she almost stumbled, he whipped a hand down upon her bottom through her dress, the blow hard enough to make me wince even though it had struck someone else.

  “You beast,” she replied, rubbing her posterior as she turned to glare at him. “How dare you!”

  The butler ignored her, turning away and continuing through the hall towards a long corridor. “This way,” he said, as if he had not just struck one of us.

  “Did you see what he did to me?” Abigail whispered to me, a tremor in her voice. “You saw, didn’t you?”

  I nodded in response, reminding myself that I would soon be shot of this wicked place. Once Jeffries had pored over the contract, I was sure to be collected, and then all this would be nothing but a bad memory.

  We turned a corner, then another. Finally, the butler pushed open a door. “Into here and get changed. I will give you five minutes.”

  He waited until we had passed him by before pulling the door closed, the sound of a key turning in the lock reaching us a moment later. I looked around the room we found ourselves in. It had once been a study of some kind but had since been adjusted to become a changing room. The bookcases contained neatly folded identical clothing and beside each was a small canvas bag. I picked up the dress nearest to me. “Oh, this is utterly absurd,” I cried, holding it against myself.

  It was a frock of the kind I had not worn since my parents were alive. Compared to my own modest outfit it looked ridiculous. Light blue in colour, it was of a rough cotton with a white frill around the sleeves. It would reveal my arms to the shoulders, my chest to the cleavage and my legs to the thigh. “We cannot be expected to wear this surely?” I asked, looking around me.

  To my surprise the other three were already undressing, leaving me to stand there protesting the insanity of what had been asked.

  “If this is the uniform, so be it,” Rebecca said. “What choice do we have?”

  I tried not to look at her as she slipped out of her clothing and into the dress. In minutes the three of them stood before me, a bizarre looking trio. Each appeared somehow more innocent than they had when we arrived. Their slender legs were exposed as were their arms and I could not help but observe the amounts of chest on show as they looked up and down each other. When the door was unlocked I still held the frock in my hands, waving it at the butler as he looked in at us all. “You are not changed,” he frowned, taking a step towards me. “Did I not make myself clear?”

  “I will not wear something so ridiculous,” I said, taking a step towards him. “And you cannot make me.”

  “There is always one,” he replied. “Every intake, there is always one. You three, go down there and left. You will find the classroom ready for you. As for you,” he stepped closer again until I could feel his breath on my cheek. “You will wear the special uniform.”

  The other three left as the butler slammed the door shut before turning back to me. “What are you intending to do to me?” I asked as a smile flashed across his lips.

  “Teach you the importance of obeying orders.” He grabbed hold of my arm in a firm grip, twisting me round as he had done to Abigail. “Bend over and do not stand until given permission.”

  “I will not sir!”

  There was a rattle at the door and I sighed with relief. Someone was coming to assist me. “Open the door Edwards,” came the voice of Lord Hawthorne.

  “Of course sir,” the butler replied, unlocking the door quickly, leaving me flushed with anger in the corner of the room. The door swung open and Lord Hawthorne strode in.

  “Why is she not in uniform?” he asked quietly.

  “She refuses to wear it sir.”

  “Does she indeed. Well you may leave her with me Edwards. Go and tend to the others.”

  “Of course sir.”

  The butler took a last angry glance at me before leaving, pulling the door closed after him. Lord Hawthorne waited until he had gone to walk over to me, trapping me against the wall. “Here less than an hour and already causing trouble,” he said, anger evident in his voice. “You have some complaint against the uniform provided?”

  “It is a dress for a child, not a fully grown woman.”

  “Oh, and you would know best how to educate those in my charge. I have only run this establishment for fifteen years. You, on the other hand, have been here one morning so no doubt you know best.”

  “Your manners are not that of a gentleman!” I said, trying to push past him. With one hand he shoved me back.

  “And you do not act like a lady. You act like a child. That is why you are here. That is why you need this education. That is why all who come here wear this uniform. You have to earn adult dress within these walls. Is that clear?”

  “Will you stand aside and let me pass?”

  “Oh you are an incorrigible one,” he said, seeming almost to smile. “But you’ll soon learn.”

  He pulled me towards him before twisting me round, one hand round my hips and the other pushing my back down. Before I could raise myself upwards, his hand landed on my posterior, a blow which made me shriek with shock. Before the stinging heat had even begun to spread across my buttocks, he spanked me again, this time even firmer than the last. I was still gasping for air as he stood me back up and twisted me around to face him. His cheeks had darkened, his brow furrowed, and yet he looked as if something about me had amused him.

  “I am going to leave you in here,�
� he began, “until you either agree to wear the uniform or you starve to death. It makes no odds to me which you decide is your preference, I have your fees paid either way.”

  Before I could reply, he was out of the door and locking it behind him, leaving me alone in the room. I turned to the windows, noticing the bars across them for the first time. There would be no escape that way. I tried the door but it was firmly locked. Finally, I sank to the floor, put my head in my hands, and wept silently.

  I remained in that position for some time, eventually moving when cramp set in. Hunger pangs soon wracked my stomach and I came to the realisation that I had little choice but to acquiesce with the request which had been made of me. My fingers trembled as I slowly undressed, feeling a draught reach me from underneath the door, chilling my skin and making me move quicker. Once I was down to my drawers, I pulled on the dress, leaving my stockings in place and slipping back into my shoes. I looked down at myself. It fit surprisingly well, a memory of my earlier years coming back to me at that moment, remembering the times with my parents when I was young, dressed similar to this whilst accompanying them around the grounds in the summer sun.

  But back then I looked quite different. Here I was with my legs on show in the most obscene manner. Even worse was the way the frock stretched across my chest, my cleavage exposed in a lascivious way which would no doubt imperil my very soul to the fires of damnation.

  I knocked on the door. “Let me out!”

  “Are you dressed correctly,” a woman’s voice called back.

  “No I am not, but I have put on this absurd uniform nonetheless.”

  “I will inform Lord Hawthorne.”

  Footsteps faded away and I turned from the door, noticing again the canvas bags beside each uniform. I picked up the nearest one and pulled at the drawstring, peering inside at the contents. There was an empty glass bottle with rubber teat, two larges squares of towelling cloth and an India rubber dummy. Rummaging deeper, I found a doll which looked expensive, the hair as soft as my own. As a key scraped home in the lock behind me, I quickly set the bag back on the shelf, wondering just why such items were contained within.

  Lord Hawthorne stepped into the room a moment later and looked me up and down briefly. “Good,” he said. “I am glad you came to your senses. Now bring four of those bags and follow me.”

  I walked after him along the corridor until we turned into a grand room, the centre dominated by a long wooden table. At it sat two rows of women, amongst them were the three who had arrived with me. Each was sewing in silence, darning stockings for the most part although there were one or two frocks being mended amongst them. At the far end of the room, a large woman wearing black sat on a high chair, watching over the students with a bored expression on her face.

  “Stop there girls,” Lord Hawthorne called out. The entire room turned to face him. “This is Annabelle. She thinks it is acceptable behaviour to whine and grumble like an infant. Her punishment for this will be carried out before you all as a lesson to both her and this entire establishment. Disobeying instructions is not acceptable.” He turned to me. “Stand on the table Annabelle.”

  “Must I?” I whispered to him, feeling all their eyes upon me as I wished I could cover up my exposed limbs.

  His expression did not change but he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “It will be far worse if you disobey me again. Get on that table now.”

  Chapter 3

  I used the bench as a step, climbing onto the table and looking down at the array of faces staring up at me. “Now lie down on your back,” Lord Hawthorne said. “Jessica, Gertrude, over here.”

  Two women stood up, one standing behind me, the other coming to my front. “Lie down,” Lord Hawthorne snapped. “I will not tell you again.”

  I lowered myself onto my back. Instantly the woman behind me took hold of my wrists in a firm grip. The other woman grabbed my ankles at the same moment. Lord Hawthorne looked around the room, ensuring all were watching before he turned back to me, picking up the nearest bag and reaching inside. He pulled out the square of cloth and set it down on the table next to me before speaking. “You have acted like an infant,” he said. “Thus you will be treated as one.” He yanked up my dress, exposing my drawers to his gaze.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “How dare you!”

  He sighed. “Thelma. Over here and keep her quiet.”

  Another woman ran over, untying her headscarf as she did so. I protested as she wrapped it around my head, pressing the fabric against my mouth until all that emerged from my throat was muffled cries. I could only watch in disbelief as Lord Hawthorne tore away my drawers, ripping the fabric into sections and tossing them into the air behind him. For a moment, he stared between my legs as if losing his train of thought. Finally, he blinked several times before calling for hot water and soap.

  The supervisor of the room seemed already prepared, bringing over a bucket, towel and razor. “You do not deserve to have your modesty hidden away,” Lord Hawthorne said, working up a later on his hands before plunging them into my pubic hair. He coated my triangle with suds before picking up the razor and beginning to scrape at my skin, working his way slowly downwards, washing the razor every few strokes and removing every inch of hair from my pubis.

  Once it was gone, he set the bucket aside and looked down at my obscenely exposed core. “Perhaps next time you will think twice about following orders,” he said as he picked up the cloth and pushed it up under my bottom. “You are to wear this nappy all day as punishment for your flagrant disobedience,” he said as he tied the nappy around my hips. Another flicker of a smile crossed his lips as he pulled my dress down before finally bidding the other women to let me up. “You are not to make a sound between now and mealtime,” he said to me, untying the cloth from around my face and replacing it with the dummy from the bag. “Not a sound or you will wear only the nappy for a full week.”

  I sat up on the table, feeling the cloth against my smooth skin, shame rising deep within me as the dummy remained in my mouth. The entire room had just seen between my legs and the sense of shame of overwhelming. A tear rose up within me as Lord Hawthorne bid me to join the others at the table. “You may continue Miss Holland,” he said. “Call me if she sets a foot out of line between now and dinner.”

  “Very good my Lord,” the woman in black replied, climbing down from her seat. “Get on with your sewing girls. You, new girl, you’ll have to work hard to stitch those drawers of yours back together.” She passed me the torn sections of cloth from the floor along with a needle and thread before returning to her seat. I sat in silence, feeling the thick nappy pressing into my skin as I tried to keep my hand still long enough to thread my needle.

  My mind was in turmoil. I could scarce believe what had just happened to me. I vowed that once I was free of this place, I would sue for every penny Lord Hawthorne had. He could not be allowed to get away with such things.

  My drawers were halfway to repaired when a bell rang out and Miss Holland stood up. “Sewing away,” she said. “It is dinnertime.”

  The girls worked like a well-oiled machine, setting their things into a large wooden case at the far end of the room. I followed them, the nappy seeming to stick out a mile from my midriff, making me rustle and waddle slightly as I walked to deposit my drawers in the case. By the time I returned to my seat, the serving staff had entered, a large bowl of soup being deposited in the centre of the table. A pewter bowl was dumped unceremoniously before each person except myself. I was about to ask why but managed to stop myself before speaking as Miss Holland walked around the room, observing each of us in turn. A ladleful of soup was provided to each student before the serving staff left.

  My stomach growled as I smelled the aroma of soup in the air, the others eating quickly whilst I could only sit there and watch. Only when they were finished did Miss Holland approach me, sitting beside me on the bench and smiling at the other girls. “This one is not yet ready for adult food,” sh
e said, turning to me and unbuttoning the top of her dress. “Nonetheless, she requires sustenance and I am the one to best provide it.”

  I had no idea to what she was referring until she had undone enough buttons to reach into her dress and pull out her enormous left breast, the nipple hard and engorged, dark pink with a single drop of milk falling from the very tip.

  “Come,” she said, taking my head in her hands and drawing me towards her breast, pulling the dummy free for now. I resisted, trying to pull away from her.

  It is this or you do not eat,” she said. “And I warn you Lord Hawthorne would let you starve before supplying you with an alternative to this.”

  She again tried to draw me towards her nipple but again I resisted, fighting to squirm away from her strong grip, the sight of her breast filling my eyes.

  “It is full of the nutrients you need,” she said. “All my girls have begun with a drink from me. Why should you be any different?”

  I shook my head. “I will not,” I protested. “You cannot make me.”

  “If you do not drink, all in this room will be punished,” she replied. “Is that what you want?”

  I glanced around me at the sea of faces watching. It was one thing to take punishment for my own actions but I could not bear the thought of inflicting pain on those around me through no fault of their own. As such I finally allowed her to draw me towards her breast.

  “That’s right,” she cooed as her nipple pressed itself against my lips, the warmth of the drop of milk hitting my skin a moment later. “Drink up little one.”

  The nipple slid between my lips and as I did so, I felt the most wonderful sense of relaxation wash over me. It was as if my mind had regressed into a deep memory of a time where life was far simpler, where all I had to do was cry out and all I needed would be provided for me. Her breast filled my mouth and as I breathed in, a squirt of creamy, warm milk sprayed over my tongue. I blinked in surprise by how delicious it tasted, beginning to suckle upon her as my stomach growled in anticipation.