"You have an immediate curfew. Tomorrow there won't be PE and you'll have The Art of Homemaking. At 5:30 you go with us for your breakfast and then you'll join the cooks during preparing a meal for our guests." I was tired, but at the same time stressed, so I don't know if my body will sleep at all, let alone with such a strict reveille. I must appreciate some progress, no doubt. Better be cooking and be dirty from the food than fighting in the mud.
In the room, we were given clear underwear, black pieces with the silver school motifs. We couldn't sleep in them right now, precisely because our two roommates returned shortly after. Senator Thompson thrashed the wall with the bathroom's door and turned on the water. Stacey came as the last one, fell on the bed, and wrapped herself by the blanket in the unnatural angle. We all have our first scars.
Oh, yes, one can't believe how a sore butt can shape at least the rest of your day, sending you a reminder of that horrible time and place from inside your skin. We young ones get a cushion for sitting in the dining hall during dinner. Not so much luck on the stadium. Now I had to lay on my stomach and even tuck the panties between my cheeks. Blanket cooled the pain spot a little.
Renegade voices filled my mind again, some pushing me more towards subversive plans, others against the person I was until the bus brought me here. I was even imagining some pixie version of myself sitting on the window, mocking me with words "Hey, Miss Woodroof, you were misbehaving a lot. Will you try it again? Maybe you should! " Yes, my body tasted the harsh school, but not a single class of Holy Submission. I hugged the pillow from both sides and pressed my clit towards the fabric of the bed. I've begun to curiously compare all I could imagine about lessons of the following days.
