Return to Avondale

Chapter Eight

The "Game" was played twice a year. Once in early summer, and again in the fall, both times on warm sunny days, for the "Game" was played out- doors. The "Game" came as no surprise to the newer girls, for it was much discussed ahead of time by some of the more senior inmates, and made to sound terribly exciting; It, was definitely the most interesting event of the year.

The "Game" was similar to the perennial "capture the flag" game played by children in school grounds and lawns. The rules, of course, had been made much more sophisticated at Avondale, and much, much more adult and erotic. In "capture the flag" there are two teams, each trying to first find, then obtain, the flag of the other team. That basic format was still used in Pamela's "Game." But children would not play by Avondale rules, nor would they understand it.

The "Game" was really quite simple. The ten girls would be divided into two teams of five each.

One team had their. headquarters in the old school barn at the rear of the main building, and the other team was headquartered in a shed which adjoined the barn. The playing field was all of Avondale's eight acres of grounds and ten acres of woods.

Each team hid their flag in a secretive place some- where on the grounds, and the game ended when one team captured the other team's flag, of course.

Two girls on each team remained at their head- quarters. They were known as the "torturers." The other three girls on each team were known as the

"soldiers" and they went out into the woods and grounds with a distinct purpose. Their job was to try and find a soldier of the opposite team, to fight her, bind her, and bring her back to headquarters.

Naturally they tried to avoid capture themselves, either by careful stalking in the woods, or by being able to beat an enemy soldier in the ensuing fight if contact was made. Girls on one team wore only white panties, while girls on the other wore pink pants to eliminate confusion. Teams were chosen weeks ahead of time, and pep rallies were held as well as bulletin board signs made, promising victory by the "pink pants" over the "white pants" and vice versa, Allegiance was at an extreme, members of one team often taunting members of the other team in the hallways for days before the

"Game" was scheduled, and promising total victory. But it was all in fun, and the girls were still the best of friends and slept with each other, naturally.

When a soldier was captured by an opposing soldier and brought back to headquarters, the torturers took over. Their job, of course, was to force t,he captive to reveal where the team flag was secreted. The torturers had free reign, and nothing was forbidden in their attempt to make the captive talk.

There was an incentive, naturally. The winning team would have their penal term at Avondale reduced by one month! This was indeed a significant reward, for although Avondale inmates learned to accept the whippings, the punishments and the confinements within the walls, they all longed to get home. At home were parents, loved ones, boys, movies, TV, dates, cars and freedom to choose whether or not they wished to be slaves.

Few would deny that Avondale had turned them into sensuous young women, and had taught them the pleasures of punishment and the delights of lesbian love. Few would regret their experiences and, to a girl, they would be thankful that Avon- dale had shown them a whole new way of life for their futures and had opened up untold erotic pleasures. They would be the elite of young womanhood. Yet, six or eight or ten months had accomplished this probably, and the remaining sentence was quite redundant and frustrating. A month of early release was Utopia!

To this end, the torturers represented hope for all the other girls on their team and they would try their best to wring a confession out of their victim.

Their team members depended on them! On the other side of the coin, a captive would do her best to withstand all that was done to her, for to "talk" was to let her team down and subject them to an extra month of servitude! Her teammates would not forgive her!

The philosophy of the "Game" was purposeful under Avondale's training guidelines, and was played for a reason. The "Game" taught the girls to learn to torture other girls without sympathy, thereby developing a necessary cruel sadism as part of their total personality. It also taught the girls a dedicated allegiance and responsibility to their teammates and thus to try and withstand the worst of tortures on their behalf. Lastly, it taught the girls to do their utmost to avoid capture and the resulting agony, by learning to fight in hand to hand combat with an "enemy" girl and doing one's best to use their fists to beat the other girl to the ground. To capture was much less painful than to be captured!

Over the years various headmistresses of Avondale had added new rules to make the "Game" more interesting. As it stood now, little could be added to improve upon it. The girls no longer wore their rings in the game, for they would only interfere with the torture ideas of purely naked bodies.

Additionally now, only one enemy soldier was re- quired to be captured by each side. The soldiers stayed out until one of the enemy was taken prisoner. When one on each side had been captured the other soldiers came back to headquarters to watch the torture. It was now a rule that the torture of one soldier could not begin until it began on her opposite player. In this manner then, no team could get a headstart on the other, and the game was simply then a torture contest in opposing headquarters, starting at the same moment.

The placing of opposing headquarters in adjacent barns with open windows was not by accident but by design — for each team could then clearly hear the screams of their own team member under torture, urging them of course to greater and swifter efforts on their own captive! The game could end swiftly, or it could go on for great lengths of time, depending on the courage and dedication of the victims. For the most part, the games did not end quickly, for the resolve on the part of the victims was quite intense considering what winning the game meant to her and her team- mates who trusted her so. There had been times when the torture had gone on into the evening and night" but normally an hour or so would break the average girl.

The tortures permitted thus on these twice-a- year occasions were far beyond what, the girls accepted as part of training in Avondale, and that was why the game was played only these two times each year. They were not enjoyable for the hapless captive, and no girl wished to be taken prisoner by any means! This led to frantic and terrible fights in the woods when two opposite soldiers met, and often the damage was great. For only these two times a year, the girls on opposing teams were not friends. The reward was just too great. Yet, the next day, because of the beautiful training of love they had learned at Avondale, the "Game" was forgotten by the losers as well as the winners. In fact, it was tradition that a tortured girl would sleep with her torturer for several days in order to renew their love and affection, and usually even on the first night the two loved and kissed in complete forgiveness. Each understood the rules of the "Game" and if their roles had been reversed, the hurt girl would have done the same to the other in eager enthusiasm and skill. Many times when the torturer had fallen into bed with the girl she had hurt so terribly that very day, she cried for what she had done. That was the peculiar nature of females, yet during the passion of torture, a female becomes aroused by hurting another girl and could go to endless lengths and for endless hours of self-pleasure. Girls understood this in each other; accepted it and expected it totally from each other.

It was, of course, the Ultimate Feminine Game of all time, for it pitted the will of one female against another. In a sense, it had been played a million times since the beginning of man in various and diverse ways by females of all times and all lands. The script was timeless. It had been played in the dark jungles of Africa where dusky girls had been tied to trees and tortured by females of an enemy tribe in retribution. It had been played in the dark middle ages in dungeons and inquisitions where young women were tortured by other young women, selected because a female was better suited and more skilled at wringing confessions from another female. It had been played in Victorian times when sophisticated ladies were publicly flogged by a female magistrate or acolyte.

It had been played in modern times in college sorority houses in many nations, where innocent young- pledges were stripped and whaled with leather paddles on virginal bottoms until they agreed to submit to sexual submission to their big sisters.

And it was still played at Avondale.

The selection of teams was perfectly fair each time the "Game" was played. Teams were drawn by lot, without regard to roommates or lovers.

Roommates sometimes were on the same team, sometimes not, as the draw would have it. It was only fair, of course. Naturally, then, it had happened on a few occasions that one roommate actually found herself having to torture the other, for the torturers and soldiers on each team were also drawn by lot. On these odd occasions it made the game much more interesting for in many cases the two girls were much in love and they had married.

However, the torture of one wife or roommate by the other was performed with the same fervor and skill as it would have been on any other girl. It was part of playing the game fairly. Besides, any easing of methods or intensity would be readily observed by the other team members who would be watching, and they would hold the torturer in serious contempt and disfavor. After all, it was their sentences she was responsible for!

As it happened, Pamela and Donna found themselves on the same side by the luck of the draw.

They were very pleased, of course, for it meant not only would they be together, but it dispelled any possibility of circumstances forcing one of them having by chance to torture the other in the game.

Their luck was extremely good, for at the meeting of their five-girl team in the library they also drew the two lowest numbers which allowed them to be their team's two torturers. They were ecstatic.

The two teams gathered in their adjacent barns at two in the afternoon, to begin play.

"Okay, kittens," said Pamela to the three soldiers in white panties. "Get going and find us a pair of pink pants. We'll make her talk, you can count on it. Donna and I planned some delightful ideas last night! Be careful, darlings, don't get caught, and fight like hell if you have to."

All five of the girls exchanged kisses for luck, and Donna and Pamela smacked them lovingly on the seat of their pants as they went out. It was like the enthusiasm of a girls' volleyball team! The girls from both teams spread out, into the deep woods and spacious acres of grounds. The flags had been secreted earlier.

Kathy took to the birch and oak trees by the stream, deciding to follow the brooklet's course along the north side of the forest. She was a "white" and she was eager to bring back a "pink" for Pamela and Donna to work on. Kathy was deep brunette and quite tall at five-seven. Her body was slim but strong, and she knew that she had more than an even chance in a fight.

Nothing much occurred for the first half hour, so large were the acres of property. Kathy had seen one girl near a thicket some distance away, but when the girl had emerged along a path Kathy could see white panties. It was near the stone bridge that she had heard a twig snap and ran towards the sound. As she passed a bush, a streak of long brown hair and flashing skin hurled itself at her, knocking her to the ground. The girl had pink pants and her name was Heather. Kathy sprang to her feet.

"Well, if it isn't Heather," said Kathy.

"Hello, Kathy. Looks like we're in for a fight."

"You better believe it, baby, I'm gonna beat hell out of you. No way am I going to get worked on by your two sadist,s and scream my lungs out. You're just a little thing, Heather, and I'm going to make you wish that you hadn't run into me."

Heather was but five feet, so indeed she was small, but she was gutsy. She was a lovely girl, her best asset the incredibly long brown hair she possessed. Heather's tresses hung below her pert bottom, a style more common in the Victorian period than now.

Heather flung herself at Kathy and the two fell to the dirt in a tangle of flying arms and legs.

Squeals and squeals came by the dozen as two females met in combat. Nails flashed and hands became entangled in hair. Heather tried to stand up and kick, but Kathy grabbed her by the waist- band of her panties and the thin garment ripped from her bottom.

Females, like men, felt the heat of combat. The eyes of the two girls flashed in anger at each other.

Kathy felt the raw passion, female battle, and Heather's total nudity aroused her emotions. She stripped off her own pants to better enjoy the pleasure of totally naked encounter, and her throat purred like a leopard about to attack. Her fist caught Heather on the cheek and the girl dropped with a thud directly on her bare buttocks.

"Get up, baby, and I'll knock you on your ass again!" said Kathy.

Heather shrieked like a panther and flew at

Kathy, fists flying. Kathy felt t,he blood running from a split lip and it aroused her greatly. Girls in battle are a curious marvel for, like animals, the taste of blood arouses passions and sexual emotion. It was for that reason that Romans enjoyed the spectacle of women gladiators in the arena, or even more, two Christian girls forced to fight each other wit,h bare fists.

Both Heather and Kathy could feel the burning in their clits from sheer naked combat as they smashed fists into each other. If it were possible to see within their sex lips at that moment, one would have found erect and quivering clitorises. Kathy was.proving too much for Heather. The smaller girl had been knocked down over and over, her lips and nose bleeding badly, her eyes stinging with tears. At last she could not get up, kneeling on all fours, and shaking her head in hurt. Kathy hadn't had enough, however, and pulling the help- less girl up to her feet by her long hair, she sent a final fist into Heather's face. Heather collapsed at

Kathy's feet and like a whipped dog, licked Kathy's dusty toes.

"I've had enough, Kath. You've hurt me awfully, you know. I can't fight anymore." Heather stood up and put her hands behind her to be tied.

"Got a better idea for you, pussycat," smiled the victor. "Don't think I'll need a rope at all."

Kathy took Heather's long tresses and twisted the bottom into a braid. She pulled down on the hair as far as it would go, forcing Heather's head f straight back, and ran the braid up between the girl's legs. Centering the hair between Heather's sex lips, Kathy pulled it up into the wetness as tightly as possible and tied Heather's wrists in front of her with the barely remaining inches of hair. The braid was so tight that it; disappeared for some length in Heather's pussy. Kathy clapped in glee at f.he workability of her bondage idea.

"You're probably the only chick in history to get pussy cream on her own hair!" laughed Kathy, obviously delighted with her victory. "Well, let's get you back to our camp. How's your screaming ability?"

"You won't get me to tell where our flag is," said

Heather. "By the way, who's your torturers?"

"Pamela and Donna," snapped Kathy, "and they have some fun things planned for you. They'll make you wish you weren't female!"

Kathy tied a rope around Heather's neck and began the walk back to headquarters, pulling her captive behind. Heather's tie kept her head fully back and she could but look into the sky as she stumbled along.

Pamela and Donna squealed in joy as they saw

Kathy drag Heather towards the barn. Ravan also was on hand as the official referee for the two headquarters and she smiled at Kathy's unique bondage on Heather.

"Marvelous, Kathy!" she exclaimed. "Well done. The pink team hasn't captured one of your girls yet so you'll have to wait to begin Heather's tortures. Meanwhile, why don't you amuse yourself with Heather in the barn. I'll let you know when to begin the questioning."

In the large barn Heather was untied and she was relieved to have her head back in its normal position.

"Well, Pam," said Donna, "we've got some time to kill. Shall we see how good Heather is with her tongue?"

"Big deal," snorted Heather. "All three of you, I suppose. I can eat three pussies without breathing hard."

"Who said anything about. pussies?" smiled

Donna. "I know of a better place!"

Heat.her blanched a pale white. "Oh, no. Not t.here. Never licked a girl there. No way!"

Donna shrugged. "Kathy, guess Heather needs some more beating on. How about some more fist sandwiches?"

"No, wait," pleaded Heather. "Don't let Kath at me again. Damn, can she punch. Don't want to lose my teeth. I'll do it."

"You go first, Kath," said Donna. "After all, you captured her."

Kathy squealed in pleasure and bent herself over a heavy plank work table, spreading her bottom cheeks apart with her hands. Heather gave a soft moan of submission, knelt on the ground behind Kathy, and sent her tongue to its puckered target.

Maryl came into the barn a short while later.

"Everyone's back. They've captured our Lisa. She put up ever such a good fight from the looks of her face. She's a good girl. She'll hold out. Ravan says that she'll blow her whistle in five minutes to begin torture, and to tie our captive in position to be ready."

Pamela and Donna had built a heavy, oak- planked X-frame for the captive during the forays in the woods, and Heather was neatly tied spread- eagled to it. The X-frame stood in an upright position, having been fastened t,o a barn post. Kathy and Maryl sat on a bench to watch, for they were not allowed to assist according to the rules. But they 'could be cheerleaders! They heard Ravan's whistle. The smiles and banter ended, and faces of dedicated seriousness took over as Pamela and

Donna began to work according to their plans. It began with a pair of shears.

"Was hoping it was you we captured," taunted Pamela. "Mean more to you than any of the others to lose all of your pretty long hair. 'Course you can still keep it if you tell us where your flag is."

There would be no further flippance and com- ments from Heather now that it had started.

Things became too serious for small talk. She said nothing as the shears snapped away, but tears of hurt filled her eyes as she saw her incredible tresses fall to the ground about her feet. There certainly was more than one way to hurt a girl!

They left only a short nub of hair upon Heather's head, shorter even than a boy.

"Smashing!" said the cheerleaders from their bench. But everyone knew that it would take a while to break Heather. A bottle of wine was passed and cigarettes lit in anticipation of the work to be done.

Various things were tried, but Heather had not uttered a sound. Ravan came in occasionally as she made trips between both headquarters to observe the activity.

"Well, Donna," said Pamela, "let's go to Phase Two and get this fluff to open up. Save poor Lisa as much as we can, y'know!"

"Ever felt cigarettes on your nipples, baby?" said Donna. "You're gonna, if you don't fess up right now. Well?"

Heather spit in Pamela's face. It produced no anger or retaliation from Pamela. She simply nodded to Donna and the two girls calmly put their cigarettes against Heather's pink nipples. The X-frame rattled as Heather fought her ropes, and she hissed like a snake. It was done without haste or carelessness. The girls took calm puffs on their cigarettes and then touched the glowing ends to Heather's nipples time and again. Heather was soaked in sweat.

"Well?" said Donna. Heather spit into both faces. Pamela and Donna were glad. It was a lovely challenge.

Suddenly., all of the girls in the barn heard screaming from the adjoining shed. Heather smiled happily.

"Sounds like your girl is gettin' hurt, you bitches. Good! Hope they skin her alive!"

Pamela and Donna did not try to show it, but Lisa's screams bothered them obviously.

"Heather's lost her head hair," said Pamela, "and she looks kinda silly with pussy hair. It's longer than the hair on her head. Looks ridiculous, it seems to me. Maybe we should do something about that."

"We'll give the girl a choice," said Donna.

"Heather, we can pull it out piece by piece if you wish. Takes a while, and should hurt something awful. Or, honey, we can pour brandy on it and light a match to it. It'll really hurt, but of course it will just go 'poof' and be all over with. The choice is yours… or we'll make it for you."

Heather moaned. in her dilemma, but a choice had to be made.

"The brandy," she said in a weak voice. Her bravado had gone.

She closed her eyes. It was indeed a "poof" as the flame flashed hotly. It had only lasted a moment, but Heather's screams came again and again.

"Lovely!" exclaimed Donna. "Look, Heather, you're ten years old again! You'll have to start growing it all over, shame isn't it? Well?"

It was more than Heather had bargained on.

Unfortunately, she had not fully recognise the extent of what females can do to each other at times. Heather was about to nod in submission when several skin-crawling screams came from Lisa next door. It gave Heather hope… and additional courage.

"No." It was a simple word. But it was a para- graph describing the remarkability of girls. It had been said a million times before in dungeons.of all ages.

Pamela and Donna had hoped that they would not have to put the long sewing needles in Heather's breasts. It was a bit much, but Lisa's screams indicated that she was dangerously close to losing the game.

Pamela took the left breast, Donna the right, and sent the first needles through, just behind the aureolas. The ends poked through neatly on the other side.

Heather did not want to look down at her breasts, which were becoming pin cushions, and lay her face on one armpit. It was not the hurt, for after the first four or five, there was only a dull throb anyway. It was just that it was obvious that the needles would be put in endlessly. When her breasts were full, they would begin somewhere else and Heather knew where that place would be.

"Please… no more. I've had it." Heather was crying, not from the hurt, but from losing the "Game" and thus letting down her team,

Pamela, Donna, Kathy and Maryl yelped in glee, and Kathy ran to find Ravan to tell her the game was over. The whites had won!

The miracle of females had not been fully shown during the torture, though it had begun there with courage and dedication and will. The miracle began after the "Game." Heather was untied and fell into the arms of Pamela, sobbing and hugging her.

There was no hate on her part. Pamela and Donna both had moist eyes as they kissed and hugged Heather in return, for their admiration and love for the courage of the girl was intense. They loved her very much for what they had had to do to her.

Yet this beautiful emotion of females began again out in the yard as all of the girls on both sides gathered together, Heather and Lisa fell into each other's arms in love and admiration and understanding. They had been pitted against one another in a contest of agony. They had shared.

Their kisses were many upon tear-stained faces. It mattered not which girl had won or lost.

The ultimate act of the nature of females was yet to happen. As the girls headed back to the school building, Heather sat upon a log and put her head in her hands, weeping. Her four teammates would undoubtedly not have much to do with her.

She felt soft hands on her shoulders and warm lips kissing her wet eyes. All four of her teammates were there.

"We love you very much, Heather. Lots and lots! You suffered for us!"

"Thank you, darling. Do you realize how long you were in there? Almost two hours! You're wonderful!"

"We can do that extra month standing on our heads!"

"Hey, bet your hair grows back in just a couple of months!"

"Hey, what's all this sniffling and crying! Let's see a smile… we love you!"

Heather smiled and she cried all the harder. She hurt nowhere right now! She would go Through it all over again for girls like these! She flung her arms around the first soft, curvy body she found.

Yet another chapter had been written in the miraculous story of Avondale.