As soon as I get into my 'room', I sit on the bed and take a look at my feet. They are sore, and I'm pissed. I'm also freaking out a bit. Cox is a sadist. This Holeman woman probably is as well. Even now, she's standing outside waiting for me to change. For the second time today, I remove my dress and begin to get into my P.E. clothes. I know I don't have long, so I hurry.
Once naked, I slip on the black sports bra I've brought. Getting it over my head, I take a moment to get it situated on my large chest. It's a heavy-duty design that covers nearly all of my upper torso, and I need it. Next comes a T-shirt to cover that all up. No way am I going in there showing anything more than my bare arms and legs.
"You have one minute, Yeager," comes the impatient voice through the door.
Not wasting any more time, I quickly change out my panties for the maroon form-fitting shorts. Leaning back on the bed with my legs up in the air, I just put both feet in and then yank them up hard. Rotating back up, I carefully slide the short socks on each foot. That's not so bad. Now for the hard part. Each running shoe is torture as they make contact with the soles of my feet. As loosely as I can get away with, I tie each shoe and test my footing.
The door bangs open. "Time, Yeager."
I jerk back as the door nearly hits me. It's almost as if she knew exactly when I was done. "Yes, ma'am," is all I say as I make my limp as obvious as possible.
Miss Holeman stares intently at me. Then she shakes her head. "Stop your act, Yeager."
I play it up a bit. "Owww. I'm not acting."
"I know they tingle, but you're in no way debilitated."
"How do you know, ma'am?"
"I just do. And Professor Cox is a practiced disciplinarian."
Is that a smile? What: the: fuck. Now, really getting worried, I'm escorted back to the 'classroom' to face both a sadist and a possible... What do you call them? Pain slut jumps to mind.
"Welcome back," Mr. Cox says from behind his desk. "Miss Holeman, if you could prepare the room for the calisthenics portion of the lesson."
"Yes, sir. Yeager. Help me with the mats in the cabinets."
To one side of the room are several large storage containers which are nearly the size of small closets. Inside them, I find several standard fold-out mats that one would use to stretch and do yoga on. Lifting them up puts more pressure on my soles, and now I really do wince. Mr. Cox notices but only raises an eyebrow at my obvious discomfort. Once all the mats are spread out, I'm allowed to remove my shoes and stand on those, at least. God, if they make me do jumping jacks...
"Miss Holeman will be leading your gym time here. I'll of course be monitoring your activities to make sure you meet the standards of Warrington."
Monitoring, as in staring at my body? I'm suddenly reminded of something that happened towards the end of the semester last year. The girls P.E. class was being led by Headmistress Holtz when the old man had come in unexpectedly. He shouldn't have been there, but after a short conversation with the teacher, he sat down and watched us. It was really strange. Most of the time he read a book, but occasionally the geezer would look up at us girls. No one thought to complain since the teacher was leaving soon anyway, but it did cause a few rumors about what a letch he's turning out to be. And now? Well, I imagine he's going to get an eye full.
I turn my head and watch Miss Holeman move to one side of the mats and pull open her robe. Underneath is the body of a fitness model. I can now see she's wearing a French-cut unitard which is made of a shiny silvery-colored material that ripples over her well-toned muscles with every move. Miss Holeman is not a bodybuilder, but I imagine the lady trains hard to look the way she does. Even her conical B cups seem to not need any support at all. All of a sudden, a sense of inferiority creeps into me, which is something I've never felt before.
"Let's start with the upper body." Miss Holeman runs me through a few neck and upper-body stretches. I glance over at 'Old Baldy' when I raise my arms over my head.
The old man waves a hand. "Pay attention to your instructor, Miss Yeager."
All my suspicions seem to be confirmed. I turn a little bit so I don't have to bend over with my ass facing him. After a few toe touches, the tall blonde spreads her feet and I try to match her pose. Then I give up. My soles are too sore, and the fit woman with her long legs is obviously more flexible than me. While bent over, I suddenly feel really weirded out and take another peek at the old man. Strangely enough, he isn't paying much attention. Just kinda staring off into space. That's more than fine with me.
"Yeager," the blonde in front of me says chidingly. "You have to try harder than that."
"I think you know why I can't, ma'am."
Cox stirs. "Can't? You will follow Holeman's instructions to the letter Yeager."
Now that feeling is really taking hold. And Cox's voice. It's different. Like lower. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. "Why, sir?"
The man's lips almost smile. "This lesson is designed to test you. I want to know what that lovely young body of yours can take."
Even Miss Holeman looks a bit shocked at the words from the old man. Yet she says nothing. I can't let this go, however. "I'm not going..."
"Indulge me. You might surprise yourself."
I can't shake off the weird feeling, but Miss Holeman signals for me to continue.
"Let's work more on your flexibility..."
"Miss Holeman," Mr. Cox interrupts again.
The tall woman pauses clearly not expecting this. "Sir?"
I look on with trepidation. Anything the ugly man has to say can't be good. I'm not disappointed.