The Laurels

Dear Julie,

This is the first time I have been able to write to you since all this began. We are not allowed contact with the outside world but I am smuggling this letter out by Roger, the garden boy, who is going to post it in the village. He is an absolute weasel who mentally strips a girl every time he looks at her and I only got him to take this sealed envelope by letting him have a really good grope which made me feel sick.

Anyway I had better go back to the start of the story. When I got into that fight in Stringfellows I thought Daddy would fix things like he always has but he said he had done that for the last time and I was on my own. It was horrid; I was put in Holloway on remand and I shared a cell with this real bitch. I blush furiously just to think of the unspeakable things she made me do for her every night and my trial was an absolute nightmare. The judge kept leering at me and I am sure he was thinking about what he would like to do to me. He made a long speech about my privileged background and how I thought I was above the law. And the press gallery was full and they were all lapping up every word; I just had to stand there with the uniformed wardress standing behind me while the judge made me sound like the Whore of Babylon. When he got to the end I just could not believe it.

"You will go to prison for two years."

Then I was hustled down the stairs and locked in a poky little holding cell which stank of pee. I was alone in there for hours pondering the horrors which lay ahead and waiting for the prison van. And then two men came in.

They said that I was "suitable material" for an experiment which was going on into young female criminals. It seemed there was this place called The Laurels where a new technique was being tried to reform "Girls like you." The men talked all kinds of legal stuff and said that taking part in the experiment was voluntary but that if I signed the consent form I would go to The Laurels instead of prison. To be honest I didn't understand it all but I signed their form – well anything has to be better than prison doesn't it.

So I found myself loaded into the back of this dark green minibus with blacked out windows like an ambulance and driven out into the leafy Home Counties. The Laurels is a big Gothic mansion in its own grounds behind high walls with razor wire along the top of the walls. The building itself is a total horror in dark red brick with turrets and the upper windows narrow and pointed; it is the stuff of vampire legends. They took me into The Head's study and left me there alone with him. He is a middle aged man in a dark suit and we sat on a leather sofa with him very close beside me. His arm went around my shoulder to be "comforting" but actually it was just creepy with only the two of us there and I had the very clear feeling that he could do whatever he liked and I could do nothing about it.

He put on this really "friendly" voice as he explained about the experiment. The Head said that he believed the girls who came here had lacked discipline at home so he was going to regress us to our early lives and give us the boundaries which we lacked. I suppose I did pretty much wrap Daddy around my little finger but every girl knows how to wriggle about on her daddy's lap to get what she needs. He also pointed out that the form I had signed said that my time at The Laurels would be indefinite. I was horrified. It meant that he could keep me here for as long as he liked and there was worse to come. If he wrote a report saying that I had failed in my undertaking to co operate in the project I would be returned to prison and my sentence would run from the start with additional time as a penalty for my failure at The Laurels.

"So you see my dear. You are entirely in my hands."

He grinned as he spoke and his hand slipped down to my left breast. I bit my lip knowing that I was completely in his power. His head came down to mine and he slobbered all over my face before I felt his fat tongue intrude into my mouth and he made me choke by ramming it to the back of my throat. I had slipped down on the sofa now so that he was pretty much on top of me and he was unzipping my jeans and dragging my sweatshirt upwards.

His hands went everywhere. My bra was up around my neck and my knickers were down around my knees and there was not a thing I could do about it. When he had groped all over me and his fingers were soaked in my pussy juice the slob stood up and looked down at his victim panting on the sofa.

Then he took a small pile of clothing from his desk and threw it at me so that some of it landed on top of me and some fell on the floor.

"The project starts here my little whore. Get EVERYTHING off and get your uniform on."

With him watching every move I put on my Laurels uniform which I could tell had been worn by someone else before me. I hated the idea of wearing second hand knickers. The Laurels uniform includes horrible grey kneesocks and black gym shoes. We wear short, navy, pleated games skirts with maroon gym pants underneath and grey blouses. I was given a white label to stitch onto my blouse bearing my surname and my Laurels number. The bra was brief, grey and did not fit well. Hair has to be gathered by thick elastic bands either into a pony tail or bunches at the side.

I was taken directly from my meeting with The Head to the white painted medical room which reeks of disinfectant where I came under the attention of Matron who is a hag faced dragon of indeterminate years. A command from her can pacify the most rebellious soul; after my time in The Head's study I was defeated before I walked through Matron's door. Her examination of my naked form was thorough, humiliating and painful and when I thought she was finished she had a further humiliation to pour upon me.

Matron had me lay backwards over the end of the bed with my feet on the floor and my legs spread wide. Then she rubbed soap into my most intimate area and, when it had lathered, she reached for a terrifying cut throat razor. She shaved me smooth so that I looked as I had not looked since pre adolescence and she said that Laurels girls were not permitted pubic hair so I could expect regular meetings like this one.

I was soon to discover that underwear was considered a privilege which could be withdrawn on a whim and any girl could find herself sentenced to a whole day completely naked with all the staff ogling her as she went through her day horribly conscious of boobs wobbling and her pussy exposed and vulnerable. Girls sleep in dormitories and we spend our days doing vigorous physical exercise while being shouted at by instructors, who are mostly men, or in the Victorian classrooms. Classroom work consists of long essays, maths or even simply hours of writing lines. No girl can ever talk about The Laurels if she is lucky enough to leave it because we all have records as "bad girls" so no-one would believe us and if we made trouble they would simply reinvoke our sentence and we would find ourselves back under lock and key.

It is difficult for me to find time to write this letter without being discovered and if I were discovered it would mean a very severe punishment or perhaps even being sent back to prison. I will write again when I can.

X

It seems that the main criteria for being sent here is to be pretty and aged 18-22. The emphasis is on obedience and discipline and we don't have to have done anything to be punished. Punishment is part of the routine and every Friday afternoon every girl lines up to take her routine caning the severity of which varies greatly. Girls are frequently thrashed as they are strapped down over the horse in front of their peers and the session ends when the victim is a quivering mess of tear soaked flesh with vivid red wheals traversing her spoiled white skin. My first impression was that The Laurels was like a very strict boarding school but there is a much darker side to it than that.

We are never allowed to move about the building unsupervised but are taken by wardens and I was one of a small group of girls being quick marched from one part of the house to another when we were taken through the bleak, square courtyard set into the middle of the building. In the very centre of the space stood an ugly cylindrical cage formed of slats of black cast iron and I beheld inside the cage the form of a naked girl. She peered silently at us with despair in her eyes. Her mouth was being forced wide open by a huge iron gag which was locked in place. At two sides of the cage a huge screw thread, rather like a skewer, ran up from the ground. An arrangement of cogs connected these threads to a handle so that the roof of the cage could be raised or lowered. The small prison was too narrow to permit its victim to sit or kneel but the roof had been wound down so that she did not have the headroom to stand upright. This meant that she was obliged to adopt a painful crouching stance which must have amounted to torture. As we passed on our way I wondered how long she had been sentenced to remain in her muscle aching captivity.

X

Although punishment is part of our normal routine here, girls who disobey face even worse penalties than just the normal discipline and the staff like us to see what happens to naughty girls as that makes us more obedient. That is why we juniors were marched out to the icehouse. I should explain that a junior is any girl who has been here for less than three months; after that time a girl moves up to the seniors who wear different uniform and have their own wing in the house.

In the days before refrigerators all large houses had an icehouse where food was kept cool. The icehouse at The Laurels is surrounded by a high hedge so that all that can be seen above the hedge is the domed roof. We were taken through the gateway in the hedge and down the steps into the small circular building most of which is below ground level. The sight which met us on entering the building made us all gasp in horror.

We found ourselves on a narrow walkway around the wall and in the centre of the space was a suspended and very uncomfortable girl of around my age. She was completely naked and her arms were chained above her head. Her ankles were chained wide apart to the walkway on which we stood and all our eyes were drawn to the cruel stone phallus which rose up from the floor and disappeared into the helpless victim.

The girl's nose was running and a long string of snot ran down her chin onto her well rounded breasts. Her cheeks were stained with tears and she was moaning and grunting in discomfort. Her slim body was not still as she continually had to shift her position to ease her tormented muscles. If she did not pull herself upwards she sank down onto the phallus which then drove right into her innards threatening to split her open and stretching her poor pussy much wider than it was ever intended to stretch. She could ease this position by pulling herself up on her arms but eventually this would cause the pain in her arms to be beyond her endurance. To ease her arms she could push herself up by bracing her feet against the narrow ledge on which they rested but then the concrete ridge would press into the soles of her feet and cause agonising cramps so that she would be forced to once again settle down onto that cold, hard intruder into her vitals.

The warden who was with us spoke to the girl.

"Would you like to tell the girls why you are here Sasha?"

Her voice was strained and pain racked.

"I refused an order Sir."

"What were you told to do Sasha?"

"I had to put my tongue up my master's anus Sir."

"Will you refuse to do that again Sasha?

"No Sir."

Her voice revealed her hope that her declaration of obedience would earn her release from her ordeal but she was to be bitterly disappointed as the warden began to hurry us out of the ice house.

"We will leave Sasha for a couple more hours just to make sure she does not forget her lesson."

X

Of course our experience of uncomfortable situations is not limited to just watching. I cannot count the times when I have been restrained in cruel circumstances but I recount here my first visit to the large cellarage beneath The Laurels. Two wardens each took an arm and, with me writhing from the pain of their grip, we went through the heavy oak door and down the cold, stone steps which took us straight into the Middle Ages. Down there it seems there are miles of cold passages flanked by iron grilles and heavy doors with tiny barred windows. All is lit by flaming torches set in iron sconces on the walls.

My every last vestige of clothing was stripped from my defenceless body in a small cell and a choke pear was introduced to my tender mouth. For those fortunate enough not to have encountered a choke pear I should explain that it is an iron ball made up of curved segments. A key protrudes from one end of the ball so that, when the cold ball is rammed into a girl's mouth only the key is visible between her distended lips. As this key is turned the segments fold outwards so that they fill the space and it is impossible to remove the device from her mouth.

I was pressed down to the stone flagged floor in a sitting position with my wrists manacled behind my back and my feet were forced wide apart by a bar between them with my ankles in iron rings on either end of the bar. As I worked to avoid choking on the saliva which was running down my throat a huge iron collar was locked around my neck. The collar was hollow and filled with lead shot so that its weight pressed down harshly upon my shoulders. A short chain was locked between a ring on my slave collar and another ring on the midway point of the bar between my feet so there I sat with my head pulled forward and all my vision filled by my own widely displayed pussy.

With raucous laughter and cruel and vile insults my two jailers left me alone to my long, painful captivity. My buttocks were soon numb on the floor and I found that I had virtually no movement. A skilful torturer does not have to work at hurting his victim for in time the cramps produced by my own body provided a range of agonies and all I could do was to sit there moaning and absorbing my suffering for hour upon hour. Even my jaws were cramping due to the choke pear and I was dribbling copiously down my chin so that my face was soon sore. It would have been bliss to sink into sleep or a faint but no such relief came so I was obliged to stay alert to the pain which seemed to fill my entire form.

And the pain was not merely physical for I had some sense of the unknown torture devices which filled these passageways. How long would I remain here and what further indignities and anguish lay ahead for me?

As usual at The Laurels what followed was the one thing I had not foreseen. When I was released I was helped up the stairs, still naked, and pushed into a warm shower with the wardens watching as I soaped and scented myself to their orders. They ordered me into a nightdress which was a concoction of translucent pink frippery and I found myself in a luxurious bed chamber with a bloated middle aged man reclining on the vast bed.

He ordered me to approach him and his hands clumsily devoured my unresisting body mauling like a randy and inexperienced teenager. I soon lost my scant covering and, to his mumbled instructions and mutterings of "My Lovely" and such names, I performed every degrading act which a woman can be forced to endure to service a selfish bully. The monster made it abundantly clear that whatever I did was my own choice for, if I wished to refuse him, I only had to say the word "No" and I would be taken away from him to learn what awaited me in the dungeons below.

Despite my disgust at the man and what he made me do I could not keep my body from responding to what he did to me. The more disgusting the act the more he stimulated me and, against my own wishes, I was howling with unbridled lust and ecstasy. The privations thrust upon Laurels girls are not random sadism but calculated acts designed to enforce the feeling that we only exist to please and to forge the connection between torture and orgasm and between sexual pleasure and pain.

X

One afternoon a warden came into our classroom and said that Matron wanted me. It was very noticeable that all the other girls looked down at their desks in silence; they knew what was about to happen to me and were just glad that it was not them.

The warden led me to Matron's lair and left me there with her hag face staring at me and wearing an expression as if she were regarding something on the sole of her shoe.

"Get undressed."

As I nervously obeyed I was very aware of how close to me she was standing. When I was naked and vulnerable she ordered me to stand with my legs apart and my hands by my sides as she walked around me in the manner of one regarding a side of beef. The tension in the room was palpable and I hardly dared to breathe as I waited to see what privation she had in store for me. Her wrinkled hand stroked the curve of my hip then ran over my belly and my breasts while I just stood there letting her do whatever she wished to do to me.

She squeezed my nipples causing my lip to turn inwards in pain. This made Matron grin and then her hand slid down between my legs and began to explore my intimate folds which caused my arousal to begin and my clitty to begin to tingle. I dared not move. She went out of my view behind me and a sudden stinging slap to my left buttock caused me to gasp aloud.

"Get on the couch, girl. Belly down."

I hurried to obey and Matron advanced on the couch where her victim lay. Matron's couch looks like a normal examination couch but underneath it has discreet steel loops which can take leather straps for restraint. I grimly watched her take out the straps and thread them through the loops then she expertly began to strap my wrists and ankles to the corners of the couch so that I was totally helpless.

Without a word she began to turn the handle beneath the couch which caused the couch to hinge in the middle. My head and feet were dragged downwards and my bum was raised into the air. This action pulled my body taut over the apex of the couch which was now in a shape like the roof of a house. My bottom and my sensitive swellings between the cheeks felt extremely exposed and vulnerable.

As I lay with my head on one side I felt the hag begin to brutally maul my bumcheeks so that I had to work hard to suppress my moans and then her fingers were between my legs. There was no pretence of an examination; this was simple abuse as she demonstrated that she could hurt me in any way she chose and I could do absolutely nothing. What made it worse were the waves of self disgust which engulfed me as I found that the more brutal the treatment the more my involuntary arousal grew and I was betraying myself by writhing in my bonds. I could smell the scent of hot girl and I knew that Matron could also smell it.

Her hands lifted from my flesh and then she was standing beside my head holding a huge piece of red plastic. The anal plug had a narrow end which curved outwards to a terrifying girth and then suddenly narrowed. The other end was a flat disc which I knew would be left pressing against the outside of my sensitive opening. So great was my terror of the pain which this thing would certainly cause that I shook my head and whispered a plea that she should not do what I feared she was about to do. I had not noticed at this point that the plug had a hole running through its entire length.

Matron moved behind me where I could not see her and I felt the slight pressure against my ass. My heart was pounding and I was gasping from air as I came close to hyper ventilating but my loud cries had no effect and the slight pressure soon became very firm.