Strictland Academy

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Long, thick and stubbed with knots, this instrument could be devastating in experienced hands, and Attendant Patience's were certainly that. She relentlessly delivered four flawless strokes, each becoming more violent and damaging.

  "Stop that at once!" a man shouted, his deep voice overpowering the sound of the shouted counts and equipment. "I said to stop it immediately!"

  Dr. Wells stormed in and snatched the instrument from Attendant Patience's hands and snapped it into three pieces before throwing it to the floor. His look was murderous, causing everyone to hold their breath as he glared at the group.

  "Release that child! Don't even think of arguing with me or you will be trussed up in her stead."

  "She is being disciplined for laziness! You cannot ..."

  "She fainted, Dr. Wells," Molly whispered. "It wasn't her fault. She is hypoglycemic and hasn't eaten or drunk anything since ..."

  "You shut up. You will be next, and ..." the attendant hissed.

  "I was just following up on our new students and I come in and see this! I swear to God that if you touch any more of these girls without good cause, you will feel how effective I am with the cane." Dr. Wells voice took on a low, menacing growl. "Now, unshackle her."

  Attendant Patience swallowed nervously as she obeyed, uncuffing Patricia from the horse.

  The doctor gathered the limp body in his arms and gently shook her. "Patricia? Wake up. I'm taking you to the infirmary. As for you," he snarled at the attendant, "I will be watching your every move. I will return and intend to take careful notes on the physical condition of these young women. I am warning you," his expression was deadly, "if I discover you are beating them or issuing punishment without justifiable reasons, you will answer to me. After that, the State will be notified. Do I have to remind you that the law dictates that anyone committing deliberate acts of violence will be sentenced to the penitentiary without a trial?"

  With that final threat hanging in the still air, he departed with the unconscious girl cradled in his arms. The deafening silence in the room was frightening, especially for Molly. She had made an enemy.

  "Divide that chit's work up among you and be certain to have it completed. As for you," Attendant Patience hissed at Molly, "watch your back. This rebellion will not go unpunished. Like my name states ... I am very patient. Your time will come, and he will not be here to save you."

  Everyone quickly returned to their own duties and immersed themselves in the grueling labor. Within the hour, the new girls witnessed the purpose of the straight-backed chairs set in the four corners of the room. The attendants sat comfortably in them to supervise, as well as using them to deliver over-the-knee punishments whenever they felt one of “their girls” wasn't working up to potential, was displaying a rebellious spirit, or was perceived to be taking a break. It was also obvious that the number of sessions, and the degree of intensity involved, increased in the presence of the men who watched in silence from the glass rooms above them.

  The Attendants believed that randomized disciplinary measures kept even the hardest cases well in line, especially when the punishment was particularly harsh or shamefully juvenile. Being bare-bottomed over an older woman's lap was just too maternal and too childish for the average young woman to bear without embarrassment. The complete indignity of the position heightened their humiliation and made them cry even harder, even if they were only being spanked with a hardened palm.

  Molly and April managed to make it through the rest of their shift without incurring any additional chastisements. At the sound of the bell, they blindly followed the others from the workhouse to the cafeteria for dinner. Exhausted and starving, the disappointing fare of a boiled potato, two hard-boiled eggs, a ladle of succotash, and a piece of stale wheat bread seemed a feast. Sitting was another matter, however, as their severely-bruised rumps protested the hard bench beneath them.

  Molly was exhausted, and even the process of feeding herself took effort. She had not completed her meal when the prefect at the table stood. Dumbly, she stood with everyone else and followed the lead to line up at the garbage can. The prefect, LeClair, inspected their plates as they passed and clapped her thick hand over Molly's wrist as she began to scrape away what remained of her food. Molly looked into the prefect's eyes with confusion, suddenly self-conscious of the stares from the viewing room above. Was this whole thing an act to impress voyeurs? Who were these people? These questions never left Molly's lips.

  “Do you think you are on a vacation here, Petry? There are people starving outside these walls and, here you are, trying to waste all that good food! If that is not bad enough, you compound your error by, bold as brass, looking me in the eye. You think you have a protector here, don't you? But even your precious doctor won't deny the severity of wasting food, or that you dared to forget yourself and give me such a confrontational look. Come with me."

  Molly was dragged over to one of the unoccupied straight-backed chairs that leaned against the walls of the room and yanked unceremoniously over the husky young woman's lap. Her dress was hauled up to her armpits, leaving her completely bare from the breasts down, and her protests and struggles were useless against the two girls who were called over to restrain her. Molly's wrists were gathered together and pinned to the floor with her captor leaning all of her weight on them, while her ankles shared the same treatment.

  Aghast that she had been bared and held down before an entire cafeteria of girls and a roomful of unidentified men above them, Molly's face flushed. She could not physically see what LeClair was doing, but by the sound of swishing in the air behind her, Molly suspected that the woman had produced the disciplinary tool used by the prefects. It was called a Stinger, twelve inches long and thin, about the size of a conductor's baton, and made from a heavy plastic. LeClair set about using that little implement to the best of her abilities, plying it up and down the entirety of Molly's behind. She concentrated on the area where bottom met thigh, the place where it would hurt the most the next time she sat down. Molly delivered quite a racket, so Leclair wadded her dress into her mouth to stifle her and additional agonizing strokes were added to her sentence.

  Although it was small, the Stinger was lethally effective and left thin, raised lines everywhere it kissed the flesh. Even on Molly's purpled skin, the strokes showed up as satisfyingly angry red weals that crisscrossed her flesh like tic-tac-toe lines gone mad. When the brutality finally ended, she was given no time to recover. Instead, she was dragged back to the cafeteria table with her dress still in her mouth and her body still on display to every eye in the room. She was plunked down with no consideration to the condition of her horribly stinging and blistered bare bottom. The material was removed from her mouth, and her plate was placed in front of her.

  “Finish it now, quickly, or you'll go right back over my lap,”LeCair commanded.

  Molly was famished, so she complied enthusiastically, gulping down the tepid water as though it were pure ambrosia. She took mouthfuls as big as she could manage without spilling any of the food and finished quickly. She then put her plate on one of the stacks on the counter and proceeded to the end of the line, every step reminding her of the punishment she'd just received—and echoing those she had endured all during the day. Her stomach twisted as she recalled that she still had to face Attendant Hazel the following day for their behavior in the Headmaster's office. She prayed that Patricia, at least, would be spared for the time being.

  It was just a quarter after six when they returned to the dormitory. Molly never considered how valuable free time was before that moment. They were permitted supervised time to read, rest, and study. This was also 'late chastisement hour', and Molly's gaze darted about the room to watch girls being hand-spanked or paddled for various misdemeanors committed throughout the day. Like all the other rooms, the dormitory housed a viewing portal, and curious, unnamed eyes observed the punishments and personal activities. The wails of pain caused Molly to shudder, as she realized that no amount of time spent
in this foul place would be enough to build the endurance needed to tolerate the abuse. This was, truly, a horror story coming to life. Something taken out of the deviant minds of sadists. She felt her heart stop as her situation fully dawned on her.

  The comments about training, perfection, finding suitable mates ... the dark faces of men watching from glass-covered rooms above the various areas, including the dorm ...the beauty of most of the girls around her whose faces were left unblemished ... the fact that no one who left this place ever reported what occurred behind these walls ... it all added up to one thing. The nightmare of her realization followed her in her dreams, as she allowed herself to sleep that first night. This was, indeed, a place for human flesh peddling! The men, obviously Rejected, were ones who the State did not considered eligible for pairing. Molly shuddered, knowing that the only reason a man would be disqualified from gaining State authority to marry was if he was carrying a communicable disease, had genetic problems, or was considered psychologically imbalanced and gave way to violence. She had heard that men like this often sought illegal means to obtain a partner, and it was rumored that many of them were involved in criminal activities to finance the purchase of a mate and pay for the silence from her family. Molly groaned, realizing that having the judge working in Strickland’s favor made a forged marriage and pregnancy permit easy to obtain. Molly’s despair grew as the circumstance began to make sense. She was here as a piece of meat to be sold to the highest bidder. In the meantime, each of the men watching from the room above were privy to an ongoing show to feed their perversities.

  Did Dr. Wells know all of this? What was he doing in this place anyway?

  CHAPTER 6

  The following day was unusually quiet, without the constant noise associated with frequent punishments. Attendant Patience appeared to be nervous, constantly watching the doorway and over her shoulder for Dr. Wells to barge in unannounced. With a drastic decrease in humiliating punishments, the amount of spectators in the observing room dwindled to nothing. Patricia's absence weighed heavily on Molly's mind as she slaved over the piles of hot, wet garments, performing a chore she never knew existed in that day and age.

  The hard, monotonous labor allowed her time to contemplate and reflect on her situation. Her life outside these dreadful walls had been fairly easy, given the circumstances of a post-war society and the lack of resources to comfortably support human life. When her father left for war, her mother was saddled with two young children that included a new baby who was born shortly after they received news of Mr. Petry’s death. Overwrought by her loss, Molly’s mother began to work sixteen hour days as a seamstress to put food on the table. Molly was eight at the time and suddenly found herself a free spirit with no restrictions other than the basic, and unenforced, area laws. By the time she turned eighteen, Molly had completed the State required levels of standard education and became eligible to apply for an early marriage permit which would allow her to be paired prior to the State standard age of twenty-five. She blatantly refused her mother’s request to pursue this course. Desperate for money, Mrs. Petry completed the application forms herself with the hope that her beautiful daughter would secure a wealthy, eligible man and be spared the arduous life she lived.

  Mrs. Petry’s request was promptly denied. Molly’s resentment, and defiance, grew as she watched her mother produce two more children out of wedlock. Things would have been so much better for her if copulation and pregnancy restrictions had been established prior to the last war instead of three years ago. It took the State that long to voice concern over post-war food and resource limitations, radiation poisoning, and the determination that violence was an ‘inherited trait.’ By limiting marriage authorization to the age of twenty-five, and suspending pregnancy permits until the husband was thirty, the system was able to space out the number of births and manage food resources with the present population. More discriminating was the fact that pregnancy permits were not issued unless both the man and woman were deemed physically and psychology sound and could financially support another human being and the wife’s entire family. Molly realized that she was refused not because she was flawed, but because she was poor. The State desired to keep the wealthier, and better educated, applicants in a separate group in order to produce a stronger, smarter civilization. By forbidding reproduction to the unsavory, the State was effectively ‘culling the herd.’

  Molly supposed that the threat looming over her mother’s head that she would be financially responsible for any problems Molly caused had pushed the women into the corner to make a decision about her. Molly had met Bradley, a handsome young man who had just turned twenty five. She was thrilled to discover another person who did not concern themselves with State laws. They were in love. Or, so she thought. He had used her for engaging in illegal sexual intercourse and then disappeared to marry a wealthy woman. He had never informed her that he was either permitted, or Selected. That was when she began to act out, the pain of his betrayal subsequently resulting in making poor decisions.

  Molly had never stopped to consider how her behavior would affect others. Her actions could have cost her mother a job, since clients hired only law-abiding citizens, and her brothers would have ended up starving or joining a street gang to survive. She glanced around the bleak room, regretful that her situation had to come to this for her to wise up. Now she risked being sent (or sold) to some stranger as payment for the stupid crimes of a selfish, spoiled and senseless girl.

  The bell rang, announcing the commencement of study time, and Molly spotted Attendant Hazel at the door with Attendant Angela at her side. Reluctantly accepting the wisdom that it would not serve any purpose to delay the inevitable, Molly boldly presented herself to them with April dragging fearfully behind. They were taken into the shower room, where they both were stripped and told to bend over and touch their toes.

  “I would prefer that that these two have a more lenient time of it than that wench Franklin. I heard that Dr. Wells rescued her from Patience yesterday and is guarding her in the infirmary."

  "He can't watch her forever. Eventually, she will be the one paying for his interference," Attendant Angela commented, cracking her knuckles.

  "He is going to be a problem. These two probably think he will rescue them, like they were damsels in distress, but they are in for a rude awakening—as is he. But for now, I do believe that Petry has earned a reward for being the only one to come forward and confess her misdeed. I would say, six strokes?"

  "That sounds appropriate," Attendant Angela said. "And the standard twelve for Compton. At least she did not require being dragged in here."

  "Agreed. Take care not to break skin. I have heard that His Highness will be inspecting these girls for excessive abuse, and I don't trust him to be on board with Strictland's policies just yet. We don't want to chance him finding a way to contact the State."

  "Oh, trust me, I can easily get my point across without drawing blood. Very easily," Attendant Angela snickered, producing a thick, leather paddle. Attendant Hazel returned the grin, displaying one of the same.

  The vigorous punishment commenced immediately. The shower room was strategically chosen because of the acoustics, allowing everything said or done in it to echo loud and clear throughout the dormitory area. It also housed a viewing chamber, permitting those within to watch the girls conduct their daily hygiene and toileting, as well as any 'special shows' of discipline. It required herculean effort on Molly and April’s part to remain quiet and defer future discipline, yet soft groans and muffled cries still managed to bounce back against the dank yellow tiles.

  Panting and covered with sweat, the two girls leaned against one another as they struggled to walk back to their bunks. April confided to Molly in a raspy whisper how desperate she was to go to the bathroom and that she would not be able to make it until bedtime. Molly said nothing, reaching only to rub April's shoulder comfortingly.

  Not long before lights out, Molly looked up from the Handbook of Decl
arations to see April creeping towards the bathrooms. She was physically blocked by Attendant Hazel.

  “What do you want, Compton? Haven't you gotten into enough trouble already today?"

  April was unable to resist the urge to cross and uncross her legs, and begged for permission to relieve herself. "I'm so sorry, Attendant Hazel, but I need to go. I truly can't hold it anymore. After all that water I had to drink earlier ..."

  “Oh, you need to go, do you? Do you think you should go ahead of all of the other girls who follow the rules?"

  “No, ma’am, Attendant, but ...”

  “But what? Do you think we should coddle you because you're new? Because you're pretty? Because your mother allowed you to do whatever you wanted to do all your life? Well, you'll not find that kind of indulgent treatment here, Missy. You'll go when everyone else goes, and not before. Don't look so stricken, child. I'm not going to punish you for your prideful request, but I am going to make sure you're at the end of the line this evening, just so you'll learn that you're no better than any other girl here. Go back to your bed and wait like the rest of them. I'll come escort you to the end of the line when the bell rings for lavatory time."

  Tears cascaded down April's cheek and her eyes widened with dread as she lost bladder control. She shrieked with mortification as a large puddle formed on the floor.

  “Really, Compton? Unbelievable. Attendant Angela, we need your assistance. We have a baby who apparently isn't potty trained!” Attendant Hazel called out with disgust. "She's eighteen years old and completely unable to hold her own water. Well, this is not the first time we have had to deal with such childishness, and I am certain it will not be the last. Take her."

  The attendants each grabbed a limb and carted April to her bunk, where she was bound hand and foot to its four corners. Her dress was stripped off and a thick stack of diaper material tucked under her bottom, brought up through her legs, then pinned together at either side. Tight-fitting rubber panties were pulled up over the diaper material and locked around her waist with a heavy padlock, to which the Attendant gave her prefect the key.