Sal Ch 01 1

Chapter 1: Yes, Headmaster.

The Salò Centre for Girls was a prestigious establishment located just outside of London. It selected its students based on social status and money, so it wasn't surprising that Britney's application had been accepted a week after her father had sent it off. She had thought it incredibly unusual that he would take such a sudden interest in her education after years of... well, neglect. He was a business man -- a successful one. Britney understood that. She had made it all the way to 18-years-old without comment from the guy, and all of a sudden there was no discussion. She was going to Salò.

She'd checked the place out on the internet -- although it seemed to be mainly for bourgeois clientèle, it also came across as strict. The fact that it was a 'centre' and not an academy, for example. From the Ofsted reports it seemed to Britney that this was a dumping ground for naughty little rich kids. Girls, she reminded herself. There would be no boys there. Perhaps she would find that useful. Easier to concentrate on her studies without the presence of immature little boys. Also, if all her peers weren't exactly academic, it wouldn't be hard to make it to the top of her class. That always looked good on University applications.

On the day of her departure Britney awoke bright and early, hopping out of bed and straight into the shower. She made sure to clean every part of her body thoroughly; shaving her legs, clipping her toenails. The routine helped to calm the butterflies in her stomach. After she'd dried her hair she examined her blank canvas in her large bathroom mirror. Average height. The perfect weight -- not fat, but not skeletal either. She had curves in all the right places. Her skin was lightly tanned from her summer trip to Morocco with her parents. She'd spent most of her time lying on the beach. She just wished she'd had the nerve to take her bikini top off. The tan line around her supple DD's was not her best feature. But no matter -- at an all girls school who would be seeing them?

After dressing in the mandatory uniform she skipped down the stairs and ate breakfast with her mother.

"Excited?" She asked her from behind her own cereal bowl.

"Sure," Britney shrugged as she could hear the faint bangs of her father dragging her suitcase down the stairs, "I guess so,"

"I didn't tell you this," her mother smiled, "But I went to Salò when I was your age. It's... well it's a life-changing place,"

Britney wanted to ask what she meant by that but she could tell by the far-away look in her eyes that she wasn't going to get a straight answer. She rarely did from her parents.

"Honey, are you ready to go?" Her father poked his head through the door, sweat broken out over his brow from all the heavy lifting.

"Sure, let's go," said Britney. She stood away from her stool, kissed her mother on the cheek and followed her father out the front door, to the car.

They did not live far away from Salò. No more an hours drive. But, Britney thought, she did not think she could find her way back if she wanted to...

From the outside it looked like any other school -- if every other school were also a castle. A well fortified castle too. The walls were high and the tops of the gate looked razor sharp. They were buzzed through by a helpful receptionist and they continued to drive up the longest driveway she'd ever encountered. It twisted round and round up the hill, making her dizzy. The grounds were beautiful and the castle was breath-taking, but Britney did not see any students. She didn't see any teachers either.

When they finally made it to the top of the hill her father parked up and they were immediately met by a friendly member of staff. As her father took Britney's bags from the boot of the car, the receptionist helped by handing them straight to Britney.

"Be a dear," she seemed to forced herself to smile, "Take these to the foyer. Just place them next to the desk and we will keep them for you whilst you speak with the headmaster." Britney smiled back and did as she was told. The receptionist continued to chat with her father as they strolled along behind her. She laughed loudly at something Britney was sure wasn't funny but she supposed being polite to parents was all a part of her job.

When she made it through the giant front doors Britney wheeled her bags by the mahogany counter as instructed and waited. The room was enormous and mostly taken up by a huge grand staircase. The floors were a polished dark wood and everything was spotless.

"Well Mr Engel, if you would care to stay a little longer I will show your daughter to the headmasters office and see that you receive some... refreshments?" The receptionist asked.

"That would be lovely," Her father grinned widely.

"Excellent. Do take a seat, Mr Engel. I will be right back. Britney, this way," She said as she began to lead her through the corridors. She could tell it was going to take some time to get used to this place. Eventually they came to a door marked 'HEADMASTER'. The receptionist knocked.

"Come!" She heard on the other side. The receptionist opened the door and leaned in.

"A new student to see you, headmaster," She said, shyly.

"Ah, good, good. Have her come in. And see to it that the girl's father is well taken care of,"

"Yes, headmaster," the receptionist bowed her head and opened the door further for Britney to enter.

The headmasters office was a large room fitted with large windows with a view of the enormous grounds. The carpet was visibly thicker in this room, Britney felt the change through her thin shoes. The walls were covered in framed achievements and plaques awarded to a Professor Hume, whom Britney knew was the headmaster from the brochures.

"Britney Engel," said Professor Hume. He was sitting at his desk -- a broad, strong-looking man, though easily in his 50's, judging by the grey in his moustache. His glasses were round and old-fashioned and with his brown suit, complete with leather elbow patches, he looked as though he's walked right out of a book set in the past.

"Hi," she said, nervously. He was lent back in his chair with his hands balanced together on his finger tips.

"I do not wish to waste time Miss Engel," he said, frankly, "There are many rules here at Salò, rules that you will be expected to memorise and follow as and when I tell them to you. The first of which is you do not speak unless spoken to,"

Britney blushed and looked down at the floor. She'd never been told off by a teacher before.

"The second," he continued, "Is you will always look at me when I am talking," Britney forced her gaze and fixed it unblinkingly to his. "Very good," he said, smiling, "I see that you're not completely untrainable. Now then, the last rule that I will mention for now is that when speaking to me you will address me as 'headmaster'. Is that understood?"

"Yes, headmaster," Britney said without breaking eye-contact.

"Excellent," he clasped his hands together and spun in his chair so that he was facing his desk front on. He studied the paperwork in front of him, which Britney saw was her application form. "Very impressive grades," he muttered, "You will be a welcome addition to the centre. However... your application was incomplete. Most of them are, you see. It is required that a photographic image of yourself is included..."

"But there was one," Britney spoke without thinking. Professor Hume looked at her for a moment, but did not comment on the outburst.

"There was indeed a photograph but it did not meet the criteria. It is no matter. Now that you are here it will be simple enough to carry out the inspection."

When he did not continue she felt compelled to ask; "Inspection, headmaster?"

"Another rule, Britney, is that you may not ask questions unless a member of staff invites you to, is that clear?"

"Yes, headmaster," she felt her cheeks burn a hot shade of crimson.

Professor Hume stood from his seat and walked around his large desk. He stopped to her left and simply stood, stroking his chin as he looked at her.

"Your uniform is not currently within regulation..." he commented.

"Forgive me, headmaster." She could not bite it back, "I studied the uniform rules for over an hour. I checked and double checked,"

"Then you will have noticed that rule number two is skirt length must be at least four inches above the knee?"

"I...Well, I assumed it was a typo..."

"Another rule, Miss Engel. You will do as instructed and will not 'assume' anything, is that clear?"

"Yes, headmaster," she muttered.

"Very well. Now then, how tall are you?"

"Five foot four, headmaster," she said.

"Weight?"

"120,"

"Very good," he said, approvingly, "This red is your natural hair colour?" Britney nodded. "Are you a horse, Miss Engel?"

"P-Pardon, headmaster?"

"A horse, Britney, are you a horse?"

"N-No..."

"No, what?"

"Headmaster,"

"Then you shall answer me 'yes or no headmaster', and will nod at me as though I am one of your little friends. If you're going to act like a horse, you shall be treated like a horse. Instead of going to your dormitory tonight you shall take up lodgings in the stables, is that clear?"

"Yes, headmaster," Britney forced herself to meet his terrible gaze. She had never been so humiliated in her entire life. Professor Hume would not really make her sleep in the stables, would he?

"Very good," he said, "Then we shall continue with the inspection. Remove your blouse,"

"I'm sorry, headmaster?" Britney did not think she had heard him correctly.

"I loathe to repeat myself, Miss Engel. You are already in enough trouble as it is, do you wish to worsen your situation?"

"No, headmaster," she said, quickly.

"Then remove your blouse,"

With clumsy fingers Britney unbuttoned her fitted, white school blouse until it was open all the way. She looked back up at the headmaster, making sure this is really what he had asked her to do. He did not indicate otherwise, so she let it fall from her shoulders. Professor Hume nodded approvingly, walking his way around her. She did not move, for fear that any action that the headmaster did not specify would land her in more trouble.

"A healthy tan," he complimented, "And a good size too, for a new starter," Britney did not know what to make of these words, so she remained silent. "Take the bra off," he said. She felt her pulse quicken and she turned to look at him. "Today!" He shouted, horribly. Britney wasted no time in practically ripping it off. "As I suspected," he muttered more to himself, "Perfectly formed nipples, however this tan line will not do. There will be consequences for this..." She did not dare ask him what, but merely felt her fear build up in her throat until she felt sure she was going to scream.

The professor's inspection lasted at least half an hour. She was stripped down until she was completely naked in the centre of the room. She was made to lie on her back and spread her legs as far as they would go. She had to bend over and hold the cheeks of her buttocks apart. The headmaster even made her do jumping jacks, although she could not work out why.

"That concludes the physical part of your inspection," he said in a bored voice, ticking a few things off a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. "I suppose we can do the oral now, and the vocal after hours," Britney, who was stood straight with her hands by her sides, looking directly at the professor as he had instructed, did not point out that 'oral' and 'vocal' meant the same thing. She could not imagine the punishments. "You are about to find out why they call me 'headmaster'," he grinned, "On your knees,"

Britney dropped to her knees without question.

"I can see you are already learning," the professor removed his glasses, "And that you are eager to become a highly achieving student here at Salò. Now is your chance to show me what you can do,"

As the headmaster unzipped his tan-coloured suit-trousers, Britney's eyes widened to circles. She had not be expecting this. She was not air-headed enough to not realise the headmaster's inspection was not exactly normal (right?) but surely this must be... illegal?

"Problem?" The professor asked. Britney shook her head quickly, but then -- horrified -- she said, "No, headmaster,"

Britney Engel had never had a penis in her mouth before. She did not think she'd even seen one in real life. And she could not say that she enjoyed it very much. In fact it was the most disgusting, uncomfortable experience she could remember. She could wasn't exactly an expert but she did not think they should be that big. It was so big, she wondered whether he suffered from some sort of condition. How had it kept it all behind those smart tan trousers? He instructed her thoroughly, which was a relief. He could not then fault her technique. She had to lick his full, veiny length like a lollypop, which she was good at. Then take one ball at a time in her mouth and suck -- then both at once. He then made her spit on the tip and use her hand to rub it in. "Like you're trying to milk a cow, Bunny," he'd said, using her father's pet name for her. Then he told her to open her mouth as wide as it would go and she was not to bite, or throw up. From that point, he took over. His erection reach all the way to the back of her throat, making her eyes water. She gagged, badly, but thankfully did not vomit. "Good," he'd said, "Very good," His hand held a chunk of her hair, tightly and forced her head back and forward, back and forward so he reached in and out of her throat. She tried to beg him to stop, but her mouth was too full to get any words out. Then, finally, he ejaculated down her throat, filling up her mouth until it dribbled out down her chin. He pulled out and continued ejaculating all over her body; her face, her hair, her tits were all covered in the hot, sticky substance.

The professor's hand reached out to her face, covering her mouth. "Swallow," he commanded, "Swallow it, girl," Britney did as he asked, regretting it instantly as she began to choke. "Excellent," he said, taking a tissue from the box on his desk. But instead of handing it to Britney he merely wiped his own hands and cast it into the waste paper bin. "Not bad, Bunny," he smiled, coldly, "But there is much room for improvement. Did I ask you to get up? That's better. You are a student at this school, Bunny, and as such you will remain on your knees when speaking to the headmaster. Now then," he walked to a cupboard, behind his desk and extracted something large and leather, "I seem to remember you are a horse this evening," to her horror, Professor Hume forced her onto all fours by pushing her head down, and began fastening something on her back. "You will wear this saddle, and everything else you have on, until you reach your lodgings at the stables this evening. You will crawl there, and as you do your nipples will graze the ground. I will know if you do not do this," The professor must have called for the receptionist as she entered the room seconds later. "Ah, excellent. Take this young lady down to the stables. And have her vocal exam prepared this evening. I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning,"

"Yes, headmaster."