The Hillcrest Incident

**** All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced anywhere for any reason without prior, written permission from the author. ***

***This is just a little schoolgirl fantasy of mine. Everyone is well over 18-- it's a university setting not a grammar school. It could have been submitted in several categories for various content but I thought the main theme was nonconsentual so there it went. Hope you like the first installment! As always, stupid and insulting feedback will be referred to the members of my coven while constructive feedback is encouraged and desired.***

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The summons from my daughter's school was as rude as it was curt. Imagine! Simply sending a short but demanding note that I appear before the new Headmistress as if I were still a silly schoolgirl myself, rather than a distinguished alumna and senior member of the Board of Regents. Whoever was responsible for this careless insult would pay. I'd be sure of that!

Nevertheless, my dear Lindsay did have a reputation as a bit of a hellion-- not terribly unlike my own, to be truthful, at her age. So I packed myself into the car and made the three-hour drive over to Hillcrest Academy to find out what could possibly be so urgent as to require my presence and so dire that it permitted such impolite handling. At least the drive itself was pleasant and absent incident, if a trifle boring.

On arrival, I was ushered to the anteroom of the Headmistress' office and left waiting for nearly an hour! As one can imagine, the gratuitous insult of the wait, piled upon the curt notice and peremptory tone of the summons itself had my blood in a boil. When a prefect finally opened the door to the inner sanctum and beckoned me to enter, my temper had definitely reached the snapping point.

Once inside, I saw the new Headmistress-- Andrea Stiles, a former classmate of mine, as it turned out-- sitting behind the large desk that dominated the center of the room. Behind her I glimpsed a pair of prefects (young women attending Hillcrest who were about to graduate or who had recently done so), identified by the unique school sash they wore. The girl who had escorted me took a position next to a pair of chairs set in front of the desk, in one of which sat my daughter. Lindsay's distress was obvious in her tear-reddened eyes, her carefully erect posture and by the way she twisted her hankie so nervously as she sat at the very edge of the seat. Before I could open my mouth in protest, my former rival and classmate took charge.

"Sit," Andrea ordered, jabbing a finger toward the open seat as the exclamation point of her requirement. Angry beyond words, I sat in order to be polite and steeled myself for a slow, humiliating and satisfying revenge after this farce concluded. We'd see just which of us had the upper hand, I thought, as I stared a personal challenge back at Andrea. She replied with a knowing grin and I felt the first stab of concern. What was going on here?

"Barbara, we have no need for pretense here and no purpose is served by observing polite social proprieties, so I will come directly to the point. Lindsay has committed an unpardonable offense and is in line for expulsion from Hillcrest."

Andrea's words hit like a hammer blow. Such a thing would mean our collective ruin! A condition of Lindsay's late father's will specified that her entire inheritance (upon which I also depended utterly) would pass to a disgusting men-only club as an endowment should she fail to graduate from this school. At the time my late husband created this peculiar codicil, I had no problem with it even though it bypassed me as his wife and sole other heir in favor of our daughter. After all, I had been recently appointed to the Board, thereby guaranteeing Lindsay's acceptance to Hillcrest; and, as an alumna, knew without reservation that she would do very well and graduate with honors there. The fact that she was still six years from enrollment made no difference. Neither did my late, unlamented husband's sudden demise which servicing his favorite whore a mere four months later. Yet, despite all my certainty, here we were.

"Whatever could you mean, Andrea? There is nothing Lindsay could possibly have done, nothing so abhorrent, that could result in such a draconian punishment," I said, carefully measuring Andrea and seeking leverage to use in our negotiations.

"Theft?"

"You're joking!" I replied. "Lindsay would never..."

At a gesture from Andrea, one of the prefects lay a locket and gold chain on the desk in front of me, along with a photo of Lindsay wearing the same locket. It appeared familiar but I couldn't place that particular piece of jewelry in either my personal collection or Lindsay's. "So?" I asked, seeing nothing here that constituted anything other than a misunderstanding, at worst.

Andrea leaned forward in her seat, taking the locket in her fingers and toying with it as she spoke. "This is mine, given to me by my Grandmother on my 20th birthday," she said. Turning the golden heart over, she opened it and showed me the inscription engraved inside. "Of all people, Barbara, you ought to recognize and remember this particular piece."

The meaning of the photo as corroboration that Lindsay had knowingly worn the woman's jewelry, presumably without Andrea's permission, was now clear. Still, there were any number of possible explanations for this that did not reach to outright theft.

Andrea continued, "Adding insult to injury, when Lindsay was approached about this matter, she attempted to bribe the prefect."

I looked over sharply at my daughter, seeking assurance that this particular charge had no merit. Unfortunately, her sobbing confirmed my worse fears rather than giving me hope. She refused to meet my eyes so I asked her point blank for an explanation. "Lindsay," I said softly, "what did you do?"

My daughter replied with an agonized man, breaking out into fresh tears. It took more than a few minutes for her to gather her composure and respond coherently. When she did, finally, manage to reply it was cryptic rather than informative.

"I told her I'd let her."

"Let her... What?" I encouraged.

"Let her, uhm, li- lick... lick me."

"Lindsay, that's not a sensible answer. What do you mean by 'let her lick you'," I asked. A glance around the room at the faces of the three prefects and at Andrea's smug grin should have prepared me.

"Oh... Mother!" Lindsay let out in a frustrated appeal not to be more specific as she broke into tears again.

Andrea spared her the final step into degradation by answering for my distraught daughter. "What your dear daughter is trying to say, Barbara, is that she offered to have sexual relations with a prefect..."

To claim I was shocked would be an understatement. Lindsay... a... a... a degenerate... lesbian? Clearly, from her expression, the prefect who'd been propositioned was the one standing close to Lindsay's chair. For the life of me, I couldn't see what my daughter had been thinking. The girl was pretty enough, I guessed, if you liked large, Amazonian women with small teats and muscular legs. As a prefect, she had to be at least a senior in line for graduation, if not already an alumna, even though she appeared younger than a freshman thanks to the tiny chest and absence of make-up.

"Lindsay knew, as probably most of the girls in her dorm do, that Candace prefers the company of women. She's never been forward about it but there it is. It is also true that Lindsay has enjoyed teasing poor Candy mercilessly about her sexual preference, including flashing her privates 'accidentally' when the prefect would conduct room inspection. I have personally seen your daughter appear to innocently lose her towel and give Candy an unrestricted view of her nude person-- and I can only imagine the effect that deliberate provocation has had on Candy. Certainly, had Lindsay been serious about establishing an intimate relationship with her prefect, Candace would have responded. I am aware that she finds your daughter attractive."

"Nonetheless, Lindsay had never given any indication that she was sexually interested in another woman until she virtually attacked Candace last evening. I am given to understand that Lindsay came to Candace in her room wearing only a thin robe which she discarded as soon as they were alone. Naked, your daughter tried to compel Candace to kiss her and fondle her, going so far as to take one of Candace's hands and pull it between Lindsay's legs! When Candace properly noted how inappropriate such actions would be, under the existing circumstances, Lindsay pushed them both to the bed and straddled her prefect whereupon she made her licentious offer. Clearly, the whole design was intended to shift the blame and attention away from Lindsay's theft and onto Candace for having an improper relationship with another girl-- and that girl in her charge as supervising prefect! Such a flaunting of both the established rules and the decorum expected of Hillcrest ladies is intolerable. Worse, it constitutes a form of prostitution! Your daughter, Barbara, offered her body in payment of an intended bribe. She prostituted herself-- and to another of her own sex!"

From the expressions on both Candace's face, and Lindsay's, it was obvious to me that the accusation was true. How and why now mattered very little if I was to find a way to undo the damage and somehow get Lindsay to graduation or face certain disaster. the smug attitude and the way all the evidence seemed to point in a single direction roused my suspicions but I could see no way out. Not unless Andrea was going to make some distasteful offer and use the circumstances to force my acceptance. It dawned on me that this whole performance had been staged with that purpose in mind. Why else drag me here for this sort of sordid news?

It was not long in coming.

"Barbara." I looked at Andrea who positively gleamed with joy in anticipation of her pronouncement.

"Lindsay can redeem herself in only one way," she said, reaching down and fetching something from a desk drawer and tossing it onto her desk in front of me.

"Recognize it?"

It took a moment for the right images and associations to register and for the deeply repressed memories to resurface. Then my bost and mind reacted as one with a startled yelp and I bit my knuckles instinctively. It was a garment I had not seen since my own last year at Hillcrest some twenty years ago. Designed to slip easily around a female of nearly any size or shape, it was also designed to permit any part of that female to be exposed without removing or altering the whole garment. It was a punishment smock! One identical to the one I had helped Andrea to don before she was taken in front of the assembled school. A smock that allowed a girl to be punished to be selectively bared and which had been opened-- from neck to knees-- to completely expose young Andrea's shoulders, back, and bottom cheeks for punishment. The last time I'd seen such a garment, Andrea had been flogged in front of the assembled student body, including the teaching staff, for cheating on an exam.

"Lindsay is to be flogged."

to be continued...