Tarnheim Academy Part 3

Tarnheim Academy, Part 3

Our story continues…

My initiation to the Tarnheim Academy had been astounding. I had been dominated and ravished by Headmistress, followed by the head girl, Adrienne, and the towering twins, Inga and Greta. At the tender age of sixteen, I could never have imagined being subjected to such awful indignities, nor could I have anticipated that my body would betray me by responding so passionately to their unnatural assault on my person. I had been soundly whipped, fondled, and fucked, and, dear God, I had actually enjoyed it. What sort of person was I becoming?

After the trio had departed, I lay on the bed, too exhausted to move. Samantha crept out from her hiding spot and timidly approached me. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she whimpered, “but I was too scared to do anything to help you. They frightened me so very badly that I dared not oppose them. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

I looked into Samantha’s soft brown eyes, so like those of a doe, full of fear. She was really quite pretty, with light brown hair and a rosy complexion. I smiled and reached out to caress her cheek. She instantly melted with gratitude, kissing my hand and thanking me profusely. I took her in my arms and we embraced each other tightly for a long moment.

“Hush, Samantha,” I whispered in her ear, “There’s nothing to forgive.”

She hugged me even tighter, crying tears of relief. I stroked her hair as she quietly sobbed on my shoulder. Spent, Samantha released me and looked at me with newfound love in her eyes.

“God, you’re perfectly wonderful! I just know we’ll be the best of friends!”

I smiled at her sweet innocence. It was ironic; just twenty-four hours ago, I’d have considered Samantha utterly beneath my interest and snubbed her na? offer of friendship, but so much had changed and so rapidly. I was enchanted by her open warmth and guileless charm.

I rose from the bed and gathered up my clothes, casually flung aside in the course of lesbian rape. I dressed myself once more and gazed thoughtfully at my reflection in the mirror. It was almost like looking at a stranger, so far removed from the girl I’d been but a day before. I ran a brush through my long hair, still the same lustrous dark brown, though now tousled from the indecent assault I’d so recently suffered. My eyes, so deep and vividly blue, seemed to have a new sparkle that I’d not seen in them before. I felt somehow reborn, made new by the lascivious sensations I’d experienced. If I was no longer the person I’d been, then who was I?


The next day, I found my schedule of classes posted on my door. The teachers were sternly rigid in their instruction, delivering their lectures on English literature, mathematics, psychology, European history, and German with mechanical precision. The girls sat carefully erect in their seats, eyes glued to the dry erase board, pencils furiously scribbling notes in their binders. No girl dared to speak out of turn without hand properly raised, and there was a complete absence of musical tones from cell phones or the sound of errant texting. In Essex, the girls had given lip service to classroom etiquette; at Tarnheim, it was an iron rule.

In point of fact, none of the girls were permitted cellular phones or other means of contact with the outside world. The computers, I learned, did not have e-mail access or other communication methods enabled. We were completely cut off from our parents, our friends, and everyone else outside the Academy. This was world entire, with no avenue of escape.

The physical education class was quite surprising. When Headmistress had told me that at the Academy I’d wear the school uniform or nothing at all, she’d spoken the literal truth. At the commencement of class, the girls summarily stripped down to bare skin to begin their exercises. I hurriedly divested myself of clothing to join them, lest I attract the stern glare of Mistress Garner, the instructor. The other instructors, both men and women, had worn tweed suits, but Mistress Garner wore a uniform of dark leather similar to that of Headmistress, and on her hip swung a long-handled whip. She was quite tall, perhaps five foot ten, with fiery red hair in a long braid down her back. Her eyes were ablaze with emerald fire, and I instantly feared her.

Physical education lasted for two hours each day, and I quickly found myself fatigued by the breathless pace set by Mistress Garner. I’d always prided myself on my figure; I had a slim waist, a curvaceous rear, and full breasts that amply filled my D-cup brassiere, but I was not as well conditioned as my peers here at Tarnheim. Mistress Garner responded to any attempts to slack off with a quick snap of her whip across my bare bottom, and so I struggled to keep up. By the end of the class, I was exhausted and my ass was criss-crossed with livid welts from Mistress Garner’s whip. I stumbled into the showers, eager for the cascading waters and the opportunity to wash the sweat of exertion from my body. Some of the girls giggled at my scarlet bottom, which had so often been the target of the instructor’s whip. I strove to ignore their taunts, and finished the shower so that I could clothe myself once more.

My last class of the day was psychology with Master Eddings. He was of middle years, perhaps forty-five or fifty, with brown hair graying at the temples and gold-rimmed glasses. His brown tweed coat bore the customary Tarnheim crest, and looked quite fetching on his broad shoulders.