by B C Morgan
“Your story is pathetic.”
That’s all the voice says, and it's humiliating, he’s a dick and I hope if I get in that I don’t draw his attention. Don’t think I have anything to worry about if he’s the one deciding my fate, clearly I’ve failed.
“Number sixty, open the clasps in your corset. Make it slow and don’t let it fall until I say,” it’s a different voice this time. This one is low and gravelly and raising goose bumps over my flesh. Although these aren’t caused from fear, if anything his voice is sensual and fills me with a feeling that I do not want to identify.
My hands shake as I work at the clasps, but I can’t get them open and no doubt I’m failing this.
“Take your time number sixty, I’m in no rush,” it isn’t sarcastic and his voice washes over me like a balm. But it doesn’t calm me, it heats my skin and makes me itch.
I breathe in and out slowly as I take each clasp one at a time, my fingers are still shaky but it’s a little easier as I slowly reveal my bra. I don’t stop until I reach the end of my stomach and I hold the corset pressed against my chest but the opening is revealing more than I’d like.
“Remove your hands,” his tone is growing deeper and I let my hands drop to my side and the corset falls away, hanging down at the top of my ass.
“Turn around and push the skirt down, make sure to bend as you push it past your knees. Don’t just let it drop.”
If they wanted a strip tease why not just ask me for that? I wouldn’t know what to do but wouldn’t it be easier for them. Although it is easier revealing myself to them when my back is turned. I start to push the skirt past over my ass, bending at the waist to continue its descent. I work my way over my thighs and over my knees, it’s hard to not let it fall but I don’t want to fail because I can’t follow a simple instruction.
“Step out of it slowly and turn back around.”
I wonder if they can see the shiver that this one voice draws out of me or the way my skin reacts to it. I face the mirror and I can feel my blush travel from my cheeks, down my neck and over my chest.
“Sit back down sixty, close your eyes and do not open them no matter what you hear or feel. Do not even let your eyelids flicker an inch, do you understand? And I don’t want a nod, a yes sir will suffice just fine.”
Yet another new voice, this one is softer. Dirtier somehow.
“Y-yes sir,” I force it out past the slight stammer before reclaiming my seat. I let out a long breath before slamming my eyes closed and waiting for the next part.
It doesn’t take long for the whoosh of the door opening to hit my ear, I can hear slow footsteps hitting the floor and walking towards me. A brush of air whispers across my almost naked body and a tremble works its way over me.
“Don’t move, don’t speak and definitely don’t peek,” it’s the third voice, the soft; dirty one.
I feel something run down my neck and my fingers white knuckle the chair to stop myself from flinching, it’s not his fingers I know that much. It’s too soft, delicate and almost… ticklish. Although that sensation barely registers, I’m petrified. I can’t predict what will happen.
“You won’t be touched number sixty, that only happens if you’re chosen. At least, it won’t be my fingers touching you. But we have to know how responsive your body is.”
His footsteps sound again until I sense something, someone stands behind me. I feel their breath brush against my ear and a shiver takes over me.
“A feather can be too ticklish, provoke the wrong response unless it’s used correctly. But you’re much too delicate for that aren’t you sixty, oh yes you require something else,” his lips are pressed against my ear as he whispers. “A flower is more your style, or the petals of one.”
It runs down my cheek, neck and then along my collarbone. I feel it dip between the valley of my breasts and the gasp from my lips surprises me, he steps away again and I don’t know where he’s gone until the flower runs down my stomach. My muscles contract from the movement as it continues its descent and runs across the lowest part of my stomach and across the waistband of my panties.
Swallowing hard, there is nothing more I want to do than open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m a mixture of anxious, scared and excited. This whole thing is nothing more than sex, how can my body be so wound up without being touched and in a situation like this? I can’t help but wonder what that says about me, I don’t even know this guy. All I know is the sound of his voice and how the sound of it makes something coil deep inside me.
The flower leaves my flesh and I have to stop myself from moaning, it’s pathetic and I feel so ashamed but my entire body is heightened and alive. For the first time in my whole life and I don’t know how to handle that.
His feet travel across the floor once more before the flower reconnects with my skin, running across my heeled foot, up my ankle and along the length of my thigh. It stops right at the edge of my panties and then a weight hovers over me, still no contact but I can feel him, hear his breathing and a darkness has passed over my eyelids.
“Do you want me to touch you Sixty, feel my body pressed against yours. Have my fingers run the same trail as the rose, have them dip inside your panties and see just how affected you are by that flower?”
I gasp and I feel a trail of fingers, so slight and light they are barely touching me, slide down my side and across the shape of my bra before he pulls away and it's only moments later that I hear the door open and I’m left alone.
“Every number who removed their clothes must now redress and wait by the door for your escort, we have made our decision.”
It’s a woman’s voice this time and I step back into my dress and I don’t know why, but something possesses me to do it slowly and my eyes meet the glass as I do up the corset and then walk towards the door.
The Mountain is standing on the other side of the door and I can’t look at him, I feel... raw. A guy I don’t know just outlined my body with a goddamn flower and spoke dirty to me and I liked it. That scares me more than this whole situation, because I’m not that kind of girl. Cole is the only guy I’ve ever truly been attracted to and I wouldn’t dream of letting him do something like that to me. Although this isn’t about me, it’s for Poppy and my mom. Besides, would it really be so bad to enjoy it just a little? They’ll get my body, use me and throw me away. Why can’t I do the same to them in return?
The Mountain says nothing as he leads me to yet another door and types in a code, I roll my shoulders back and straighten them before stepping inside and I find myself on a stage with the rest of the candidates. There's a row of chairs lining the ground below and a viewing platform up above, I can’t make out the features but there are definitely people up there and I have a feeling it's the Harkwright guys.
A woman steps up onto the stage with a microphone and a slip of A4 paper in her hand. She looks at it before us and she goes through row after row. The stage can show twenty girls at once and I’m luckily in the back row. Ten of those girls get through the other ten are escorted out, I can see tears, anger and even relief. I wonder what will be on my face when I get escorted from this place.
She keeps going through the names until there’s only our row left and five spots remaining. She’s already got rid of five of them, just fifteen left to go.
“Maria Cross, we have considered your circumstances, but we have decided that you will not be selected. Only one spot remains for a virgin and you’re barely one.”
“This is bullshit, your boy told me if I opened my mouth for him then I would get in,” she shouts out as two guys even bigger than the mountain appear beside her.
“You should have been better at sucking cock then,” is shouted out from the viewing platform and the amount of laughs he gets is disgusting.
She’s led away and I can see a lot of nervous faces, I’m guessing this deal was made to a lot of girls here. They still need to assign the girls who will become known as two and four. As well as number Fifty and a few in betwe
en. I didn’t suck anyone off so I’m guessing that means I'm out.
“Marcia Cross, unlike your twin you have proven yourself to be a worthy candidate, therefore you will be granted the position of number two. Congratulations,” her smile is ridiculous as she looks up at the guys and gives them a wink.
They give two more girls their spots, number fifty and thirty-eight meaning only one remains. Everyone is shuffling on the spot, hoping it’s theirs but most look resigned to be shown the door.
“Luna Carter, zero.”
Zero, that can’t be good. I’ve failed before I even had a chance to start, I’m sorry Poppy. It doesn’t make sense though, they led the others out when they failed so why am I still standing here?
They announce four more girls as a zero before they give the fourth spot to a girl named Katia Roberts, she’s a hair flicker for sure.
Everyone is led off the stage and to their future apart from the five of us, and clearly no one else in my little group knows what a zero means either.
Someone walks down from the viewing platform and up the steps until he is standing on the stage, my chest seizes as a shock of recognition passes through me, but I fight to remain composed. He looks us over before coming to a stand still with a huge smirk on his face.
“Harkwright Academy isn’t for the faint hearted and some just can’t… lets say cope with the responsibilities, while other just prove to be unworthy of the position. The weak usually show themselves within the first month,” his gaze locks on me and I know he’s already placing me in the weak category. His voice isn’t familiar and I don’t think he was one of the men questioning me in that room. Although I recognize him. “Therefore we have a contingency in place and this is where the zeros come in. You will be a reserve, you will have a room to share between the five of you. Only true numbers get their own room and if you prove yourselves and one of the others falter, then you could rise in the ranks. To be honest, the girls don’t even have to be stupid bitches who can’t cope, you just have to be better. Good luck ladies, you have one month to prove to us we made a mistake in not selecting you.”
He starts to walk away before coming close to me, his eyes drilling into mine. I want to look away but I don’t dare show him any weakness.
“Good luck Snow, let's see if your company is better within our walls than you were on the train. Although if I come to you, it won’t be for a conversation,” he runs his fingers across my jaw before swaggering off and the moment I’m taken back to my room I sink into my chair and finally stop fighting my tears.
I’m in, despite everything and I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do. Despite my bravado earlier, I don’t think I can own what I will do and use them in the same way. I’m screwed.
6
First Day Jitters
We’re taken in our own car with blacked-out windows so we can’t even see the academy until we arrive outside. I thought being zeros together may have given us something to talk about, a group to lean on but it isn’t happening. I can see it in the way they look at each other and me. They’re all working out the strong from the weak, who they need to watch and who will be easy to crush beneath their kitten heels.
The Mountain is in here with us but he isn’t talking this time, occasionally his eyes will pass over the length of me and I keep having to make sure the skirt of my dress hasn't ridden up too far. He doesn’t need to see what’s hiding beneath it, I’ve already had fifteen guys do that today.
It isn’t going to take us long to get there, it’s a ten-minute walk at least but we’re not allowed to be seen by the public. We are only for the Harkwrights and their staff now.
“I’m scared,” someone squeaks out, Caitlyn I think and every set of eyes turns to look at her, except from the Mountain.
“No one cares, get that into your head. No one will care about how you are feeling as long as you are in the Academy, keep your feelings to yourself,” says one of the other girls, Carly who clearly has an attitude problem.
I think Caitlyn looks like the type of girl who will cry when she’s on her own, I feel for her but I can’t help her. I don’t even know if I can help myself.
“We’re here,” says the Mountain as he opens the door and steps out and then one by one, so do we. I swallow hard as I look up at my new home. From this point, I can’t even see the gate we drove through, past the luscious grounds with beautiful flowers, topiaries and I think there’s even a maze off to one side. The only proof we even drove up here is the gravel path that winds around the stunning views that are filling my eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” says Millie, spinning around slowly, trying to take it all in.
“It’s just a garden, get over it,” Carly is definitely not trying to make friends, this is going to be a lonely month.
A woman steps out of the mansion, castle, I don’t even know what to call it. It’s insane how large it is, I can’t help but worry that I will end up getting lost once I’m inside.
“Good evening zeroes, I am Miss Martins and I will escort you to your room for the next month. We will not permit you to leave your designated area until someone collects you tomorrow morning, because of this you will have dinner brought to your room. Now, follow me and I will explain everything else once we arrive,” Miss Martins is fierce.
She has dark blond hair pulled back in a tight bun, a pencil line skirt with a crisp, wrinkle free blouse and a dark grey waistcoat. She has to be in her thirties but I can’t see a hint of laughter lines surrounding her cold blue eyes. I guess the Harkwrights don’t employ cheery people.
We climb the stone steps and follow behind as she takes us inside our new home and my mouth falls open the minute I cross the threshold. We’re in a foyer with a reception in the center of the room but set along the back wall are two winding staircases - with dark oak balustrades - leading up to a balcony with walls covered in the Harkwrights who are no longer taking part within the Academy. Two crystal chandeliers fall from the ceiling and the lights reflect beautifully upon the wall and a stained window above the door. The floor is marble with a black plush rug running up to the desk and there are so many doors branching off from this one room that it confirms my first suspicion. I will get lost.
“Come along girls, we need to have you situated by seven pm and that only gives us ten minutes,” she glances at her crystal watch before tapping its face and ascending the stairs.
I can barely take anything else in, other than the fact that we are heading down the east side of the place and there are even more photos of men with no smiles but devilishly handsome features. Sharp jaws and aquiline noses, eyes as warm as melted chocolate or as clear blue as the Caribbean Sea, but there isn’t an ounce of emotion to be detected. Other than the air of self entitlement that they all seem to share. We enter a door with a plaque above saying East Wing and the hall is lined with a red runner on the ground, curved windows with seated areas and every other space has a sconce with a candle lighting our way.
The numbers above the doors start at fifteen and I watch as they go higher and higher until we come to door number thirty and then we enter through another door and come to another hallway in the same style as the one before. Only this one had numbers from thirty to fifty but that’s where the numbers end. There aren’t anymore doors other than an old brown one that has been warped with age. We huddle around it and wait for Miss Martins to carry on moving but she’s just standing here, watching us.
"Zeros don’t last and rarely make it into a different room, therefore this is your new home for the next month. You are not allowed to join in with any of the extracurricular activities and seeing as the classes won’t begin for another month, you won’t be taking part in those either. For your meals, you are allowed to dine in the mess hall and your access has been granted to the library, gardens and our smaller pool,” she looks at us with an air of indifference before twisting the handle and pushing the door open, it groans from the movement. “A list with the clothing you are permitted to wea
r has been provided, this is mandatory, do not try to test boundaries it will only end badly for you. The brief list of places you may visit during your reserved place will be within your pack, again this will be updated if any of you become a more permanent face. There will be no arguments over who gets which bed, these too, have been assigned and we forbid swapping. Enjoy your night girls, an escort will be here to retrieve you at six am sharp, do not be a second late.”
She gives us one last look before turning around and walking away and all we can really do is enter our room and discover what is waiting for us.
If this is the reserve room, I think a more permanent one may kill me. Yes it’s ‘basic’ as Carly points out derisively but it’s pure luxury to me. The walls are painted magnolia and there’s a cream carpet on the floor. We have a small sofa and a coffee table and there’s a breakfast style bar with five stools for us to eat around. The sofa has seen better days and Millie has already found a spring sticking out but it’s only for a month and I’m more than happy to sit on my bed to relax. And the breakfast bar may be wobbly and at least one stool has a crack running through the seat but we can still use it.
The beds have cotton sheets and thin comforters, with two pillows each but they’re still comfortable and small nightstands with a lamp each and a pack waiting for each of us. They have placed my name on the wall above the bed closest to the door, for some reason this is making Carly smirk but I’m happy with my assigned place, thank you very much.
I grab my pack and flick through it, seeing the itinerary for the tour tomorrow. We can’t even enter more than half of the places we’re being shown, so they can only show us where they are. No perusals for us, again I’m not bothered. Besides my list of where I can go means the world to me.
