Unknown - Return to Avondale

"Pamela! Packed yet? Girl from Avondale is here!" shouted Mrs. McNee to her daughter upstairs.

It was raining in Hammersmith and the van had pulled up outside the flat shortly after two.

"Be there in a jiff, mom!" came the voice from Pamela's bedroom.

The clicking heels of Pamela's shoes sounded on the stairs as she came bouncing down with her suitcase. Mrs. McNee was in the vestibule talking to the woman with long blonde hair, rather nervously of course, for there really wasn't much to say. The woman was perhaps twenty-three and quite attractive, though her obviously slim figure was well concealed in a dripping raincoat. Mrs.McNee handed Pamela her slicker without comment. Everything had already been said, many times over, for the last three weeks. Shoplifting had been a lark at first for Pamela, then rather exciting. Until she was nicked.

It had taken much influence with the magistrate from one of Mrs. McNee's solicitor acquaintances, and much money, to arrange for Pamela's stay at Avondale. After all, she was seventeen and old enough to spend three years in Women's Prison at Eeling as her sentence called for. It had taken some doing, some pleading and some convincing, but finally it was arranged to admit Pamela to Avon- dale, Certainly six months there would he better than three years in jail, without question. Besides, at Avondale a girl could continue her studies.

Avondale was well known to most, sophisticated Londoners, and, by reputation, to many girls as well. The quaint, ivy-covered school had nestled in the rolling hills of Avonshire since 1845 and served, until after World War Two, as one of the many training schools for young ladies, so fashion- able in those delightful times when the whip and cane were deemed proper and necessary for the proper maturity and breeding of every girl who wished to really be anything at all. Such procedures faded with time, social acceptance, and law of course. One or two, such as Avondale, had been converted by the government into correction schools for those troublesome young ladies not yet of legal age and for whom prison might cause more harm than good. Even so, it took influence and money, for the schools were small, Avondale itself admitting only ten at one time, It was not asked what was done at Avondale.

Some knew, but winked at it. After all. it wouldn't make much difference to a girl who was sent there, for six months was certainly better than being locked up for several years. It was rumored that things really hadn't changed much at Avondale since it,s inception, but after all, if girls went there voluntarily for over a century, modern girls should be able and willing to follow suit even if involuntarily attending. Goodness knows, girls hadn't changed much over the years!

"Take off your blouse, honey," said the girl from the school. "Have to put the punishment bra on you."

Pamela hesitated only briefly. After all, she might as well begin to get used to anything for the next six months. She handed her blouse to her mother. Pamela's breasts were lovely. There was no question about that at all.

Much to Mrs.. McNee's consternation, the blonde ran her hands briefly over Pamela's bare breasts.

Not aggressively, but just enough for Pamela to get the idea. Pamela had never been touched by a girl, but, it wasn't unpleasant at that moment. It gave her something to think about.

The bra, which the girl produced from her hand- bag, was just an ordinary girl's bra. Except of course for the inside which had been completely studded with thumb tacks, She fitted it over Pamela's shoulders and snapped the hooks in back.

Pamela drew in her breath. The tacks hurt!

"Do you really have to do that?" exclaimed Mrs.. McNee in utter shock.

"Oh, mother," said Pamela, "don't make a fuss.After all, it's only for six months y'know. Doesn't hurt too bad."

Pamela put on her blouse, and the girl from Avondale took cords from her purse. Pamela had never been tied before of course, but she had seen enough movies and TV to know enough to cross her hands behind her and turn around to the girl.

The first, feel of rope on her wrists was interesting.

Not uncomfortable or unpleasant, but not exciting either. Just interesting. Yet, there was a slight quickening of her breathing when she smelled the lilac perfume of her binder. Well now, thought

Pamela, what's this reaction all about? Probably the excitement of the day.

Pamela's raincoat was draped over her shoulders to hide her ropes, and there was a last goodbye, and a brief kiss to her mother. The door closed behind them as they walked quickly through the rain.

The van was blue, but unlettered, and it stood in the gushing torrent of the gutter. The rear doors were opened by the girl and they climbed inside together, stepping high up to the floor deck, The girl's raincoat was short, and so was her skirt obviously, for Pamela saw a flash of her white panties.

The girl removed Pamela's raincoat and untied her wrists. The respite was only brief however, for she raised Pamela's right wrist towards the van ceiling and encased it in a dangling silver handcuff. The left wrist was likewise cuffed before the girl touched a panel switch. The chains holding the cuffs rose with a.smooth whispy sound and Pamela felt her arms pulled upwards until her heels left her shoes, all of her weight now on her toes. Pamela said nothing, but felt the discomfort of her bond- age keenly. Better get off to a good start, she realized.

"Feel okay, baby?" asked the girl.

"Sure," said Pamela, not missing the girl's use of the word "baby." She hadn't been called that by a girl before, and found it rather nice. The girl was pretty. She had thought about girls once or twice.

"Sure, mistress!" snapped the girl. "That calls for a minor penalty only, since it was your first time."

"Yes, mistress." The girl placed her hands on Pamela's blouse and squeezed the breasts.

"Owww," gasped Pamela, t,ears welling in her eyes; The thumb tacks had bitten into her flesh deeply, and in fact remained there. Pamela was sure that she could feel every last one of them!

"At Avondale, you bits of fluff thank the mis- tresses for punishing you!" said the girl. "After all, y'know, punishment makes women out of you.

Now thank me for pushing the tacks in your tits, baby."

Pamela gulped, more from shame than hurt.

Could this be happening to her?

"Thanks for for pushing the tacks in my tits, mistress." Her face was crimson. "Much better," said the girl. "Like the feel of 'em?"

Pamela decided that discretion was the better part of valor. If this chick gets her kicks from hurting girls, I'm not going to make it easy for her, thought Pamela.

"They're okay, I guess, mistress."

"Okay?"

"Well, I do like 'em, mistress."

"Good." The girl kissed Pamela full on the mouth. It was certainly a first for Pamela! But she didn't break the kiss either, and was keenly aware of a rather tingly sensation in her loins. What the hell is happening here? she realized.

The girl ran a finger over Pamela's lips. Very tenderly and softly.

"What color panties have you got: on, baby?"

This is too much, thought Pamela. Now the girl was playing games! Well, better go along or it's more damn thumb tacks pressed into me.

"Pink ones, mistress."

"Sometimes we pull the pants off of a girl in here and hang 'em on the outside of the van. Lets people know we've got a fluff in here on her way to Avondale!"

Pamela closed her eyes. Oh, no. Please no. At least not'til I get to Avondale, she said to herself.

"Feel like doing that today," smiled the blonde.

"Ask me to!"

Pamela choked, her face flushing with fire. She licked her dry lips.

"Pull my panties off and hang 'em outside, mistress," she squeaked in a strange voice.