The four Sophomore girls walked up the stairs to the 4th floor together, Abbi proud to be a part of a cool clique for the first time in her life. Their chatter was light, inconsequential, but there was an undercurrent of excitement under it all. First period had been unusual for everyone and heading into their rooms for private tutoring sessions had them all acting giddier than any day of real school ever had before.
Abbi could almost hear their thoughts resonating under the mindless small talk. Ariel was positively buzzing with the idea of getting bent over and plowed, Blair was licking her lips at the thought of 69-ing with a friendly stranger, and Kamilla seemed determined to have her ass punished at least as hard as Abbi had. Imagining her new friends' anticipatory fantasies was more exciting than engaging in her own.
A small moment of self-reflection revealed that she wanted to go into her room with the same absence of expectation as she had the first half of the day.
The main hallway of the 4th floor was the same seamless private school façade as the one below. Instead of just one plaque identifying the classroom, there were a cluster outside each corridor facing door, four nameplates engraved with the students' names.
They stopped in front of the door displaying the Sophomore girls' names. Blair and Ariel reached for the door at the same time and took turns allowing the other by for a couple of comical beats. Kamilla pushed by them both and took the lead, swinging the door open wide for them all.
This smaller offshoot hallway had four more doors. Ariel went straight for hers and went inside. Blair hesitated for another moment before disappearing herself. Kamilla and Abbi walked in astride each other, arriving at the doors to rooms that stood opposite each other.
"Well, here we are," Abbi announced.
"Yep," Kamilla winked. She gave her another squeeze of Abbi's hand, a quick peck on her cheek, and opened the door for her. "Have fun, love," she added, shoving Abbi into her room.
The door shut behind Abbi, leaving her alone but pleasantly surprised.
Her private tutoring room was like the cartoon version of a fantasy of an anime obsessed schoolgirl, which was great, because that's what she was.
Normal bedroom stuff was there, a white four-poster bed with a full-size mattress in the middle of the far wall, a small white nightstand and lamp, a second-hand red lounge chair in the corner, a white chest of drawers, a simple white IKEA desk and matching desk chair on the other wall, and a pair of mirrored sliding doors hiding a closet in between.
What wasn't 'normal' was the anime artwork festooning the walls. There were posters and pictures tacked up above the desk and on closet wall: Attack on Titan, Sailor Moon, Macross, RWBY, Spirited Away, and on and on. The desk had a second, super fancy pink and white Hello Kitty gaming chair in front of it, and the comforter was a painfully pink and had a hundred crazy-eyed unicorns farting rainbows all over it. Flippin' sweet!
On her bedroom wall were two huge hand painted murals: one of Major Kusanagi from Ghost in the Shell, in that sexy classic manga cover kneeling pose that showed off her cyborg butt and a bunch of tubes and wires coming out of her back was on one side of the bed. On the other side was of Matoi and Mako, BFFs from Kill la Kill. Most days Abbi felt like Mako (especially today wearing the excellent Academy uniform for the first time), an enthusiastic underachiever, but basking in the glow of a larger-than-life Matoi, she knew that she too would give her lifeblood to have the power of that glorious kamui.
Minutes passed, Abbi standing a few steps into the room so dumbfounded that she didn't know she was no longer alone until there was a soft "ahem" behind her, followed by a friendly hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Abbi?"
She turned to face the interloper and found herself looking into the friendly round face of Mr. Cleveland, the Homeroom assistant. He was a head taller than Abbi, in his white button-down shirtsleeves, gray slacks, and black loafers, and shared that same commanding air of confidence of every staff member she had met so far. He also had Captain Picard's hairdo, wore it just as well, and like that TV hero/father figure from her childhood, Mr. Cleveland was younger than he appeared from afar.
"Mr. Cleveland!"
"Yes," he smiled. "You have a good memory."
"Thanks!"
They stared at each other for a moment longer than her comfort threshold. She didn't get the sense that he was scoping her out like she did meeting most men for the first time, just that he was waiting patiently for the student to appear and be ready.
"I uh, how, uh, what are we supposed to do, I mean, to get started?"
Ugh, she thought. I'm so goofy!
"Well, Ms. Ford has issued homework to her class. It is a Kama Sutra worksheet. I'm to help you complete it." He held up an Academy appropriate red Pee-Chee folder.
"Oh, I thought she was kidding about homework."
"Oh no, Ms. Ford never jokes or kids around, especially about homework."
Abbi instinctively reached both hands back to comfort her still sore bottom.
"I get that, now."
"And once you are finished with that," he continued. "I have a special treat just for you."
"Oh, really? That's so nice!"
"I spoke with Ms. Ford at lunch, and she said that you had kind of a rough morning."
"Yeah, I could barely sit on the bench while I ate."
"Well, I thought I could make it all better and give you a massage," Mr. Cleveland offered. "If you will permit me, of course."
"Like, here, on the bed?" That odd sense of line-crossing intimacy returned with a vengeance. Getting a massage from this handsome stranger would be great and also deeply weird.
Abbi decided she was here for it, on-board for whatever happened. Didn't stop whatever did end up happening from being embarrassing, though.
"Have you had a chance to check out the closet? You should look."
Abbi crossed the room while Mr. Cleveland went over to the desk. Instead of one door hiding the other, both slid away into wall recesses revealing another room the same size as her fantasy bedroom.
This room was mostly bare except for a forward-facing professional massage chair. The walls were two-toned, crimson on top and cream underneath, and the floor was some sort of firm black padding instead of the plush cream carpet of the main room. There was a coatrack mounted on the far wall with an assortment of spanking instruments hanging from the hooks (of course!). The only other feature of the room was what appeared to be one of those fancy red rolling tool cabinets in the corner, only this had no drawers.
Oh boy, Abbi thought. Here we go!
Looking at this room of promised sexual torment, Abbi noticed that there were no windows, and the ceiling was that weird unfinished look that you would see in a fancy café: vents and pipes and electrical conduits, simple lamps with bare wire bulbs, all of it painted black. She also noticed a few long lengths of chain anchored to sturdy beams, just about the right height to have her hands shackled above her. Chilling and thrilling.
Mr. Cleveland broke her reverie.
"One thing we need to do before we begin, though," he warned.
"Yes, Mr. Cleveland?"
"I need to make sure that you are in your proper uniform."
"I am. I like, changed before lunch."
"I believe you, but I still need to check."
Abbi happily spun around.
"Miss Abbi, let me be clear," he warned. "I need to see your underwear. Please lift your skirt and show me both sides."
"Uh," Abbi blushed furiously. How degrading! She realized nearly too late just how close she was to her third punishment of the day.
"Yes, sir, is how you can most respectfully answer, along with your compliance."
"Uh, yes sir."
Abbi faced him, reticent, and raised the front of her skirt but unwilling to look him in the eyes, disinclined to babble herself further into danger.
"Very nice," he observed. "Now your backside."
She turned and lifted her skirt again, accidentally catching his eye in the freestanding mirror. Mortifying!
