Pamela knew full well that the first two months at Avondale were easy, and she was intelligent enough to realize that she was far from trained into the kind of woman she wanted to be. It would take far more hurt and abuse and degradation to change her from a bouncy girl into a lovely and perfect young woman, and in a way, she looked forward to it.
Girls such as Pamela, who anticipated and expected a steadily increasing level of punishment, and would admit that it was necessary, were marvelous things to work with, and totally alluring. In her first two months Pamela had been brought along on schedule. She had learned that rope and chain were not occasional adornments to be used in girl games. They were part of being a girl just as much as skirts, lipstick and panties. Those items certainly were not boy-things, nor were the ropes and chains. They were meant for females. Pamela would leave Avondale feeling odd without some sort of confinement on her limbs somewhere. A girl became used to it and it seemed wrong without. If necessary, she would find some bits of rope or chain at home and affix them herself if she couldn't find someone else to do it.
She had learned quickly that girls were lovely things to make love to, and that that province needn't be reserved for boys alone. Girls were anyone's fair game and provided extreme pleasure for boys and girls alike. Boys used different, bodily parts to love a girl with, because girls just simply have that part, but made do nicely with other parts which a girl recipient enjoyed just as much. The word lesbian, once a nasty word, now was adored and honored. All girls were lesbian if given the chance to find out, and if they didn't, it was a terrible loss. Pamela had found that girls could fall in love.with girls, and that it was very natural.
She had learned the basics of slavery, a female's ultimate joy whether she served master or mis- tress. There was no other emotion so satisfying to a female as to serve and obey.
She had learned about the whip, in a moderate way, and knew that that delightful rear portion of a girl was intended and designed to be whipped.
She knew also that she had but, begun to know the whip as yet. There were many places yet to be whipped, and she must learn to accept and enjoy it, there if she were to become a woman. She must also learn to wield the whip herself and derive arousal from its use upon another female, for females loved to whip or be whipped. Either way was pleasant. Most of all, like rope and chain and lesbianism, whips were part of being a girl. Girls required the whip simply because t,hey were girls.
It was needed, the same as air or food or water, and needed regularly.
And of course, Pamela had learned about rings and their mystifying gratification. Where having rings put through various and sundry body parts might seem to the uninitiated as a punishment, or torture, they were in fact a joy! The sharp hurt as a girl was pierced was wee worth the price for the beautiful symbolism and excitement they returned ten-fold. The unique and modern locking pins in the nipples were of course not needed, since the nipples already held rings. Yet, a girl felt a sense of pride that those punishing items had been added even though they nearly ruined the nipples. It made a girl feel like a real girl!
Yet, all of these things were elementary during the first two months. The other girls, who had been there longer, had told Pamela and Donna what they could expect during their remaining term, and the two loved ones had talked about it in bed many times, Strangely, they were not apprehensive, though some of the things would hurt very, very much. It was, of course, due to Avondale. The punishments, no matter how terrible, were given with a love and a purpose, rather than brutality and anger. Pamela and Donna knew this, and it made it very different indeed. No matter how intense the hurt, no matter how many screams and tears, they knew that it was for their own good in the long run if they wished to be true young ladies.
All things had been done before, and accepted by their past sisters. It was part of being a girl. The true philosophy of Avondale had begun to appear.
Girls were not punished here for being truants, or shoplifters, or bad girls. They were punished be- cause they were girls. They needed to accept this openly and completely first, then they in turn could begin to find arousal themselves in involving themselves in punishment of other girls. Pamela and Donna walked nicely down this trail.
'Hi, Pamela,' said Sabrina. 'Your day, is it?'
Jan had brought Pamela to the nurse's lab shortly after lunch, and had taken Donna to the pool for a nude swim. Pamela and Donna had begun t.o be separated occasionally now by design. Some things would be done together, some things not, It was up to Jan, of course, and she thought it prudent that they not share everything all the time. It was good that they thought of each other when apart and wondered what the other was experiencing.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so Jan was not being cruel
'Hello, Sabrina. Jan brought me. Swimming with Donna, she is. Geez, I miss that. girl when we're apart. I can just see Jan all stretched out on the diving board with my Donna eating her puss.
Oh, well, You look nice in pink!'
Sabrina laughed. She was sitting in a chair with her legs slightly apart, her mini-nurse's skirt far too short to cover the strip of pink underpants be- tween her thighs. That was why every girl liked her so much. She didn't spread her legs purposely or consciously. Yet she didn't worry about silly legs- together modesty. She just sat naturally and comfortably with legs slightly apart. If her panties showed, they showed, that's all.
'I like pink pants, hon. Mind?'
'No. It's very feminine, y'know. I might as well tell you that I'd like to get into your pants,
Sabrina.'
'Really?' teased Sabrina. 'Well, maybe some- day, darling. But what would my children think?'
'Oh, Sabrina. You're a right corker, you are.'
Both girls laughed.
'Come sit on my lap, Pam, and I'll tell you what's on the docket.'
Pamela flounced onto her lap. Sabrina's perfume smelled heavenly, and Pamela put her arms around her neck. Sabrina put her hands on Pamela's breasts and fingered her nipple-rings, causing
Pamela to steal a brief but nice kiss upon Sabrina's mouth.
'Hey. We're ten years apart in age,' teased
Sabrina. 'I'm twenty-seven.'
'I like older women,' laughed Pamela.
'Well, enough for now. Got things to do to you, you know.'
'Like what?'
'First off, a super sudsy enema, t.hen I'm going to torture you.'
'Oh, i.s that all Thought it was something special!' said Pamela. Yet her flippancy could not; hide her apprehension. Phase two was beginning!
Again, Pamela's mind found it hard to accept the perfectly normal manner in which Sabrina dis- cussed what she was going to do to her. In a way, such normal and matter-of-fact words were frightening considering what they meant, especially from so sweet and pretty a nurse as Sabrina, wife and mother of kids! Yet, because it did come from
Sabrina, it made it sound nice and totally accept- able. She knew that she wanted Sabrina to do those things to her.
'Okay, honey-pie, off my lap and onto the table, face down. New experience coming up for you.'
Pamela lay propped up on her elbows and felt Sabrina peel her panties down and off. It made her tingly again. Her admiration for Sabrina grew when the nurse didn't throw her panties some- where. She lay them carefully and spread out nicely on the chair. Pamela held out her wrists and ankles to be tied to the four corner bolts of the table. Sabrina pulled the cords tightly into her flesh. It was a matter of acclimation again, and
Pamela was impressed by Avondale's well thought out training. If they had tied her like this during the first week it would have been unbearable, but they had tied her gently, though firmly, at first.
Then, as time went by, the ropes had become tighter and tighter and now she did not mind that
Sabrina had pulled them deep into her wrists and ankles. In fact, she was pleased to be tied like this.
Way a girl should be tied, she knew. She realized that if Sabrina were somehow bound somewhere, she would expect to be tied in the same manner. It was a sisterhood that she and Sabrina shared.
Sabrina removed her blouse, for it was rather warm in the room. Her breasts were magnificent, beautifully nippled. But they also bore three whip stripes. Her back bore a half-dozen more.
'Crikey, Sabrina! Who whipped you darling?
