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?"
