Disciplined mother

CHAPTER SIX

"I don't see why you're so worded about showing yourself off, Krystal," she said, taking the bra and panties and laying them carefully on the chair.

Krystal was humiliated, standing there, cupping her hands over her pussy mound.

"You've got a fine body… nearly as fine as mine. I'm glad you're that well-endowed," Linda said. "It'll make things a little easier for you here."

"Easier?"

"You'll find out. Now, please turn and put your hands behind your back."

Krystal obeyed, her bare feet starting to ache from having stood on the concrete floor for so long. She did as she was told. When she turned around she saw Linda had produced a fourteen inch length of cord.

With experienced fingers, Linda looped the line around Krystal's wrists and bound them firmly together. The girl gasped, her eyes widening as she bent over and tried to move her hands apart. What was going on? Again, she asked that question, trying to pull her wrists from one another. They were tying her up. For what reasons? She wasn't a prisoner! Her mother would see her in this condition and demand she be released. There had to be some horrible mistake.

"Now, you'll come with me."

Krystal had known discomfort and embarrassment before. But nothing like this!

Linda gripped her bare arm, opened the door and pushed her back into the hall. Krystal was terrified of meeting others in the hall. But it was deserted. The girls must be in class – or worse, she thought, wondering if they all had gone through this terrible initiation. Linda led her down another hall, this one far larger than the first. They stopped in front of an oak door with the words "Director of Scholastic Administration" embossed in the wood. Linda reached forward, pushing it open.

"Step inside. I think you'll find your mother there."

It was a comfortable study, luxuriously furnished. Krystal was mortified. There, sitting stiffly in a chair was her mother. Mike was sitting behind an ornate desk, a pleasant smile of welcome on his face. Carla let out a cry of horror, then tried to control herself as Mike gestured her to be quiet.

Krystal felt herself become one big blush as she was positioned before Mike's desk. With three pairs of eyes fixed on her, she fought the natural urge to shrink and cry. What was going on here? Why had her comfortable little world been shattered this cruelly? And for what reason?

"I see you've been prepared for school. This is our uniform – for the novices, anyway, until they've been indoctrinated. Your mother approves. She feels you need some discipline before you go out into the world. I, in turn, agree." Mike smiled at her.

"Mother, what's going on here? Why did you send me here?"

"Enough of that!"

Linda pulled a large white handkerchief from her pocket, flicked it open, then slipped it around the girl's mouth. Krystal screamed, her cries muffled by the cotton as Linda tied it tightly around her head. Carla stood to protest. But again, Mike gestured for her to be seated.

Krystal felt panic gripping her heart like an icy finger, her toes curling into the carpeting as she stood there bound and gagged before the small group.

"People have different ideas about discipline. I, for one, believe in the firmest use of it. Your mother's experienced some of my methods and approves of them, right Carla? It might happen that later on she can participate in some of them."

"You, you"

Carla wanted to scream. But for the sake of her daughter she kept quiet, scratching her fingernail against the arm rest and wondering how she could rescue her daughter without creating a scandal.

"If you behave you'll find you can wear the uniforms to class. Otherwise, you'll stay as you are now – bound and naked. Is that clear?"

Krystal felt as if he were pronouncing a death sentence on her. Discipline? This was the discipline of the Nazi concentration camps! Once more, Krystal tried working the bonds from her wrists. But her movements were only making the chafing sensation worse.

"Now, you'll go with Linda. Carla, I think you can go home now. Your daughter's in fine hands."

"Krystal…"

It was the last thing she heard her mother say for a long time. Linda led her from the study quickly, pushing her down the corridor. Three more girls shuffled past, one of them as naked as she. The tall redhead shot her a sympathetic glance, then moved her eyes back to the floor. Krystal stumbled hurriedly, trying to keep pace with Linda.

"Now, you go into the Training Room. Mike's provided a program tailored to most girls' needs. I think you'll find this interesting."

It was a maze of halls, none of them having windows to the outside. Krystal looked around her frantically, feeling as if she had fallen into some private hellish nightmare from which she would never waken. More girls passed her, no one daring to look up. Then they came to another door, this one metal with studs all around the outside. Linda opened it, shoving the teen through.

It was a large room. Widely spaced posts rose from the floor to the low ceiling. Against one of them, Krystal saw another teen bound, her body naked. The girl looked at them briefly, then returned her gaze to a short brunette who was also naked and was sobbing audibly. There were red marks on her sides and tummy, indications that someone had been beating her.

"There."

Linda shoved her against a pillar, encircling Krystal's waist with a strap, cinching it tightly. The "guard", as Krystal was to think of her later, took off the handkerchief and wiped her lips with it.

"There. You don't have to look so worried, Krystal. That's a very pretty name," Linda said, smoothing two fingers over the girl's tits.

Krystal shivered, her back hurting from being pressed so hard against the pillar. The sobbing of the other girl grew worse, making Krystal nervous as she felt Linda's hands caressing her.

Maybe it was because she was so afraid, or perhaps it was because of a certain look in Linda's eyes that triggered something dark inside her, but Krystal began feeling a kind of odd excitement rising in her. Linda could see it too and licked her lips, drawing closer to her.

Linda's errant hand was moving down pest her navel, caressing the fine downy hairs covering her white flesh, then reaching down into her cuntal hair. Krystal shuddered, rubbing her hands against her thighs, wanting to protest, but unable to find the words. Her flesh seemed to be covered with hundreds of prickly ants, her cunt lips starting to swell and moisten.

"I… I don't know what you're doing to… to me, but stop!"

Linda was about to speak. But she as interrupted by Mike's sudden appearance.

"Your mother left. She'll join us, perhaps, later on in your training."

"I've taken care of her, Mike. She's tied well to the post."

"Well, maybe, but not well enough. Not for someone, new to the school and its ways. Let me finish," he said, taking more cord from Linda and moving behind the trembling blonde teen. "Oh, no, no, don't touch me! You're hurting me!" Krystal cried.

It was a horrid nightmare. She felt the line drawn under her armpits and up over her shoulders, crossed behind her and knotted tightly. Krystal found herself held firmly, her shoulders wrenched back so that the cords bit deep and burned each time she sucked in a breath.

"Uhhhh, it's so… so tight!"

"As I hope you are, Krystal."

"I think she's a virgin. You want me to find out?" Linda asked, the corners of her lips curling into a broad smile.

"Yes. Why don't you do that? Krystal might think I was doing something offensive if I reached in to check her cherry!"

"No! No! Don't touch me there! Oh, it's not right! It's just not right!" she screamed, feeling Linda's fingers caressing her pussy, forcing the smooth pink lips apart and probing deep into her cuntal channel. Krystal reddened, sensing Linda's finger corkscrewing up her pussy, her fingernail scraping her cuntal walls until it touched her tight little cherry.

"She's virgin, alright," Linda said, her voice nearly breathless with excitement.

"Good! At least you aren't one of the incorrigibles we have here, girls who've prostituted themselves to every boy in town before coming here," Mike said, stroking her hair caringly.

He moved around, tightening the ropes, which made her tits stick out more provocatively. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them taut behind the post where he securely roped them with a slipknot so Krystal couldn't move them at all. Next came her ankles, Linda bending down and cording them with two firm bands encircling both ankles. One leg was placed on either side of the post, enhancing her exposure.

Krystal tried to move away from the post, easing the strain of the ropes against her body. But any kind of twist caused her more pain. In the end, she submitted, vowing to look for some kind of escape just as soon as she could.

"Now, I think we've done our job for the moment," Mike said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

The two bound girls looked mutely at one another, companions in this mutual misery. School? Krystal could have laughed with wild derision at that thought. It was no more a school than San Quentin?

"Hurts, does it?" Linda said, stroking the side of Krystal's cheek.

"Yes. Why are you doing this to me? I haven't done anything."

"Oh, but you have, or your mother wouldn't have dreamed of sending you here," Linda countered, smacking her playfully on the ass.

Krystal winced, her buttocks jiggling from the slap.

"Besides with all the craziness going on out there in the world, a little bit of discipline certainly doesn't hurt. Your mother was a wise woman sending you here," Linda observed.

"What are you going to do to me now?" Krystal asked, her voice barely a whisper. She hated to ask the question, fearful of the answer. But not knowing was worse.

"That's up to Mike. He's put the program together for us and you. I imagine there'll be some whipping," Linda said, rubbing the back of her hand over Krystal's pussy. The girl shivered again.

"Whipping?" Krystal wailed. "But…"

"That's the way we train our girls. When you get out of here, you'll be fully prepared for the outside world," Linda said firmly.

Krystal bit her lower lip, watching as Mike pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso and hairy chest. Krystal trembled, Linda's words echoing in her head. Whipping? Discipline? Would this end? She struggled against the bonds one more time, feeling the ropes cutting her belly.

The big stud was unhitching a small riding crop from a wooden hook in the wall. He tested its balance, swishing it in the air, always keeping his eyes on the trembling blonde teen.

Krystal wanted to scream for help, but managed to say quietly: "Please, no… don't touch me with that thing. I promise I'll be good."

"You say that now, but you'd change after we left you. No," he said, shaking his head with a smile, "you'll have to go through the program like all the other girls."

"No… I… aiyyyeeeeee!"

Without cocking his arm, he lashed one end of the crop savagely across Krystal's belly. The girl let out a shriek, her eyes bugging out as she jerked hard against the ropes. Never, never had she felt anything like that before in her life! Her tummy burned from the savage attack, her muscles tightening until they cramped from the effort. Moving up, he rubbed the leather against her cheek, watching her eyes pop out, her head twitching from side to side as if she had palsy. Then with another blow he slashed the crop across her left cheekbone.

"Yghghghhghghhhhh!"

The force of the blow snapped her head to the right, making her neck muscles hurt from the strain. Krystal was completely adrift, unsure of what to think, of what to do. She was terror stricken. And all the while, that horrid crop was beating her, making her cry out with pain. Prom behind her she could hear the other girl cry out in sympathy. Linda barked out a command and the sobbing stopped. Three of them, trussed up like this, and all waiting for the beat of that crop against their bodies!

Mike moved behind the post, seeing how her asscheeks spread out against it. Cocking his right arm back, he brought the riding crop down hard on her right asscheek, watching with unconcealed delight as the white flesh quickly turned red then purple. A small welt formed as Krystal let out another sobbing groan. She moved her wrists against one another, trying to force the ropes apart. All she was doing was chafing her skin badly. Mike brought down the crop a second, then a third, then a fourth time against her asscheeks, making them jiggle, crisscrossing them with long red marks and welts. Krystal howled banging her head against the post, yammering for help. Tears blinded her as she twisted and bounced against the wooden pillar behind.

Mike was warming to the work. He moved in front of the girl once more, jerking the crop down hard against her right nipple. It was as if someone had torn the nub from her tit with one blow. Krystal let out another hellish scream, the muscles bulging against her flesh. Grinding her teeth, hating them all bitterly, she felt the pain in her belly and tits throb like a raw wound.

Screwing her face into a mask of twisted hurt, Krystal slowly gained control over herself.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself, Krystal? Do you enjoy having this done to you? Are you starting to know the meaning of discipline?"

"Discipline? This isn't any school! You're just a bunch of sick people hurting me and the others just for your own pleasure," she blurted out.

"Hurting others, eh?" Mike said, amused by her defiance. "I like that spunk. Your mother had it. You know, your mother was the same way. She never gave in, even though I could see she was enjoying it."

"My mother? You did this to my mother?" Krystal sputtered.

"Not exactly the same thing," Mike confessed. "But close enough. Now we're going to see just how much the two of you are alike."

Krystal sagged in her bonds. Her mother! Her mother had sold her out to this man! And now she had to suffer for it! All those tears in the office. Guilt, perhaps. But not the love she thought she had.

"Bitch! Just like your mother. A bitch whore, one who needs to be taught lessons."

Mike lashed out again, nearly peeling a narrow strip of flesh from Krystal's right tit. The girl writhed with the pain of the blows. She felt the warm, sticky sweetness of her perspiration trickling along her belly. Her belly button filled with the sweat, then let it trickle down into the top of her cuntal fur. Mike looked at her, licking his lips. He remembered the mother and wondered if the daughter was half as good.

"Uhhhhhh!"

Jabbing the blunt end of the crop into her belly, he knocked the wind from her, twisting the end around and around, reddening her flesh from the friction. "Yes, you'll be fine. Just like your mother was – a whore's whore."

With that, Mike reached down and grabbed a fistful of her cuntal hair, twisting the fur and her outer labes in his fist. The tearing sensation ripped through the girl like a blunt knife. She tried jerking her legs out, tried tearing her arms from the bonds, screaming at the big man who was driving this awful pain through her again and again. When she yammered too loudly, Mike lashed the crop over her face, her lips, the taps of her tits. Krystal couldn't tell where he was beating her any longer. It was all so painful. She felt her hands going numb as the nerves bruised. Again, the girl screamed at him, dragging out curses she couldn't remember having heard.

As hard as Krystal tried to control herself, she only brought more pain to herself. The ropes cut her severely when she twisted so much. When she rose upward, the strokes of the crop crossed her nipples, burning into the tips like flaming sulfur.

"I think you're becoming aroused – just like your mother did. The more pain, the more pleasure. She found that out soon enough. And so will you," Mike said.

Krystal knew, on seeing that look he wore, that he was telling the truth. Oh, how she hated him! How, she hated her mother!