Author Topic: School Discipline - Work in Progress  (Read 3400 times)

Offline Badman

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School Discipline - Work in Progress
« on: September 30, 2017, 11:38:54 AM »
Written (2016) & heavily revised by BadMan (2017)

Formatting from the original word document to popst here is taking longer than I hoped.

Chapter 1: Declining Standards

In its glory days just before the Great War, The Hanover School for Ladies was a magnificent squat three-story edifice.
With black slate rooves, red brick walls and white wood framed glass windows, it nestles in a thousand acres of private forest.
It's 3 levels of dormitories, classrooms, staff accommodation, stables, laundry and kitchens were enough to house 400 girls.
Those pupils ranged in age from 8 to 18 and could stay all year round.

The brainchild of Lord Hanover and his Lady wife, who were sadly childless themselves, it was there as a way to thwart both the tax man and greedy relatives.
Having bequeathed all of their lands, estates and fortune to a trust for the upkeep of the school in perpetuity, they felt they had done enough to secure its future forever.
They were mistaken. The Great Depression devastated the trust's investments and The Second World War lead to it being commandeered as barracks.
For 6 years nearly 1200 Canadian troops were billeted there in basic conditions.

So when the trustees finally regained the keys to the school in 1950 it was in a very sorry state indeed.
With post-war austerity, whole sections of the school were boarded up and mothballed while the central core was repaired.
In 1952, only 112 pupils returned and half of them were part of a quota from State Schools system in return for limited
state support. The school remained unisex but was renamed Hanover Grammar School.

And so it plodded on through decades of change, expanding and contracting as the local and national economies permitted.
Until it arrived in its current state. The surrounding 1000 acres of forest, long since privatised by the forestry board, was a few years from harvest.
Once that happened, the tide of development pressing in from all sides would be allowed to run its course.
Until the school itself would be overwhelmed and subsumed into the urban sprawl.

But not yet. Now, under the watchful eye and steady hand of Dean Edward Brady, the school had found a
niche. Once again private, with 200 resident girls mostly from abroad, lived there for 9 months of the year.
Discipline was the watchword which coupled with complete isolation from the influence of the local community,
enabled the school to compete favourably in the academic and sports arena.

Most of the staff are hired in, especially catering and maintenance and every half-term and holiday the place is nearly deserted.

Chapter 2: Cleaning Duty

Esther tugs at the harness straps trying to ease some of her is discomfort.
It feels worse than yesterday and she thinks, ‘Oh no, he’s shortened the damned thing again. The bastard’
Giving up with a sigh, she opens the cupboard door and runs the tap over the sink basin.
Grabbing the nearest orange plastic bucket from the floor, she reaches up for the detergent bottle on the top shelf.
With a groan, she hesitates half-way because the crotch strap bites tighter.
She pushes on and gets up on tip-toe, now feeling all the straps biting into her flesh.
With a sigh, she brings the bottle down with her and puts a good splash into the bucket.
The air fills with a warm antiseptic pine scented mist.
Hesitating a second, she adjusts the straps a little and prepares herself to put the bottle back on the top shelf.
In her mind she can hear his monotonous voice when reading out the rules
‘Rule 18: Everything goes back into its place straight away’, usually just the moment before he whips her ass raw with his slipper.
Steam rises from the sink so she puts the bucket under and watches the soap foam up.
Far too many suds for her liking froth up but she's learned that he likes to see lots of suds.
She is careful not to overfill the bucket lest she break; Rule 12: No mess.
She knows it will add one more trip but that’s preferable to a caning for spilling any.
She grabs another bucket to fill and reaches for the detergent again.

Already growing used to the chaffing, she hardly hesitates before putting it back.  
She fills the second bucket before carefully lifting them out into the corridor.
Quickly she swipes a couple of splashes away with her bare foot as she turns off the tap.
Grabbing a cloth from the pipe next to the sink, she crouches down and wipes the entire sink down.
Not a splash in sight, she flicks the cloth straight and puts it back.
Turning out the light, she closes the door and locks it.

She pauses before lifting the heavy bunch of keys out of the door and holds up the two ends of a chain they are attached to.
Squeezing open a clip, she puts it on her left nipple then the other clip on the right one.
Slowly, she lets the keys hang on the chain as gently as she can while the weight pulls down on her nipples.
As she bends down to pick up the buckets, the keys swing out pulling her nipples toward the floor.
This is a new twist that he added to her routine only two days ago and she is sure it is only the start.

Standing slowly to prevent splashing, she sets off down the corridor.
As usual, she has to take the stairs, going all the way to the fourth floor.
Where crossing the top of the building and descending back four flights to get to the Girls Changing Rooms.
Her legs are soon marked and feel bruised where the buckets are banging into them.
Arms ache from trying to stop the buckets moving too much.
Nipples ache from the bounce on each step on the way back down.
And she hasn’t even started cleaning yet.

She sets the buckets down carefully and unhooks the keys; she unlocks the changing room door grateful to leave the keys behind and opens the door.
Turning on the lights she balances awkwardly to hold the door open with her backside and pick up the buckets.
She looks at the cleaners cupboard right opposite and sighs. He never makes anything simple.
She takes the buckets into the far corner of the shower room and reaches into the nearest bucket.
Her heart sinks and she grunts ‘Sponges! Damn I forgot the sponges’. Now she has a problem.

She can carry the buckets all the way back and get the sponges.
By then they will be cold and she’ll have to empty them and refill them again.
She decides to take a chance and runs to grab the sponges.
She gets halfway down the corridor before she remembers the keys.
Panicking now, she turns back and grabs them deciding not to waste time clamping them in place and run straight there.
She is just fumbling with the keys when he appears behind her, she lets out a yelp of surprise.

‘Tut, tut Esther what have you been up to’.

He holds up one hand and begins ticking off his points on each finger,
 ‘Running in the corridors, not properly securing the keys, failure to follow the designated route, leaving school equipment unattended.
 I could go on but I don’t think you have the time’

‘I forgot the sponges headmaster…I thought it was quicker to….’ she ground to a halt under his withering gaze.
 Deep down she knew he would not accept excuses and she faced a very painful night ahead.
 But first she had to get through her assigned tasks without getting any more punishments.

‘You know you should have brought the buckets back. That’s the rule.
Now I want you to fill two more buckets and take them….with the sponges….and take them with you.
Maybe carrying four buckets for the rest of tonight will teach you a lesson.
So five minutes later she set off towards the stairs with the buckets and sponges and the keys swinging from her nipples.
When she got to the other end he was waiting for her, he opened the door for her and whispered ‘Rule 15: All unattended doors to be locked at all times’.
Tut, tut."

She put the buckets down and went to take the keys off but he put up a hand with his palm toward her.

 ‘Keep them on my a reminder not to be so hasty next time.’ then he left.
Well that’ll teach me. I should've known by now he’s watching the CCTV.

She grabs a sponge in each hand and starts the task of washing down the floor to ceiling tiling.
She ends up throwing the first two buckets away as they are too cold to foam up properly.
Now well behind schedule, she frantically wipes the whole wall from standing on tiptoe all the way down to a crouch at the floor.

Covered in sweat and soap ,she barely notices the keys except for an occasional jangle and the tighter straps is all but forgotten.
When the bucket is nearly empty and mostly soap suds she rubs a handful under the straps to ease them over her skin.
Finally, she stands up after the last wall is soaped and wipes at the hair plastered to her or head.
Throwing the sponge into the nearest bucket she picks each one up and wipes of the worst of the soap bubbles stuck there.

« Last Edit: October 01, 2017, 08:11:01 AM by Badman »
“And if people can see themselves for who they really are, they will know that every person has a dark side!~ Aarush Kashyap”

Offline The Sickness
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Re: School Discipline - Work in Progress
« Reply #1 on: October 17, 2017, 03:28:04 AM »
Looks very promising, please continue.