Academy Pt. 01 – BDSM


First Day at the Academy

Abbi arrived the night before in a whirlwind of activity that she could barely remember. A short trip through heavy traffic on a luxury commuter bus, a quick glimpse of the Academy’s main building and grounds, a bite to eat in the dorm’s common area, saying hi to a couple of her fellow boarders while they changed into nightwear, and then sleep.

The girl’s dorm supervisor woke them up at 7 am and encouraged them to dress quickly in time for breakfast.

Abbi arose eagerly while the other girl in the room groaned. She went to the window and parted the curtains to get her first look at the city.

“Wow,” she gasped. “The Hollywood Sign is right there!”

“Oof,” a voice croaked from the top bed of Abbi’s shared double decker bunk. “Nooooo suuun!”

While there was no view of the city, the dorm rooms on this side of the building had a million-dollar view of the surrounding neighborhood and the world-famous sign. It was so close she had to crane her neck up to see it clearly, the scrub of Mt. Lee a nice shade of green from the rainy spring that LA had enjoyed.

She hopped a little from the joy and excitement of the moment, then promptly shed her pajamas on the way to her side of the shared closet.

“Too early,” moaned the girl from the top bunk. She had sat up but her long black hair was a mess obscuring her face.

Standing in nothing but her cutest pair of pink panties, Abbi saw three pristine Academy uniforms already hanging there, ready for the weekend. Abbi fastened the red tartan skirt around her slim hips then slipped on a plain white bra. The white button-down shirt and thin crimson cardigan, complete with the Academy crest, went on quickly after that.

Abbi peered into the mirror on the inside of the closet door and gasped a little again. She forgot that she had her mousy brown hair cut into a short bob yesterday and was mildly shocked to see an image of herself that had been long hidden; a young girl, fresh faced and freckled, blooming into something both gorgeous and powerful.

While Abbi was pulling on her white thigh-high stockings and deciding whether to put on make-up or not, her bunkmate hopped down to the floor with a dull thud.

“Cute,” she said with an English accent. Abbi saw her newly arisen roommate clearly for the first time and gasped yet again. The girl stood there completely naked and glorious; flawless caramel colored skin, full but perky breasts, brown nipples standing hard in the slight morning chill, long legs, a spill of silky black hair nearly down to her butt, all framed in the fresh light of a new day. Abbi had never seen a thigh gap in real life, believed even that it was probably only ever created through photoshop, but there it was, framing the barest hint of a landing strip atop the Mound of Venus.

Abbi stood frozen, gawking, overcome with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

“The uniform, that is,” she tried to fill the awkward silence. “The uniform is cute.”

“Uhhh,” Abbi replied lamely.

“You’re cute too,” the naked girl added. “I’m Kamilla.”

“Um,” Abbi continued.

“Could I get past you? I don’t mind being nude, but it is a bit chilly, and we need to be in full uniform to be admitted to breakfast.”

“Uh, yeah,” Abbi said, finally collecting enough of herself to speak. “Sorry.”

She stepped apart and watched Kamilla dress, who didn’t seem to mind the attention.

“You’re Abbigail?” she asked, straining to button up her crisp white shirt around her ample bosom.

“Yeah,” Abbi replied. “Abbi, actually. Everyone calls me Abbi.”

“Good to meet you cute Abbi,” Kamilla said. “Let’s get the others up so we can head to the café together.”

Abbi followed her through the adjoining bathroom into the other, identical dorm room.

“Wakey wakey, ladies,” Kamilla said, leaning into her English accent. “Time to break the fast and learn what the Academy has to teach us.” Kamilla threw open the curtains.

“Jeez, what time is it?” one said.

Fuck, I’m hungry,” the other said.

The girl on the top bunk sat up so quickly she hit her head on the ceiling. Dressed in athletic shorts and a tank-top, the tallest girl Abbi had ever seen rubbed her head as she climbed down. Her dark chocolate skin, short curly hair, and bold features were striking and a little intimidating, until she spoke.

“Are we introducing ourselves?” the tall girl asked in a girlish southern accent. “I’m Blair and I have to pee.” She walked out, resolutely seeking the restroom.

“Ariel,” said a husky voice from under the blankets on the lower bunk. “I’m not a fucking morning person, so sorry for being fucking grumpy, but I need some fucking coffee.”

Kamilla pulled the blanket back to reveal the grumpy girl. Ariel was dressed in flannel pajamas, her platinum blonde hair an absolute mess. She sat up with a groan, squinting at Abbi and Kamilla looking fresh and awake in their Academy uniforms. Standing, Ariel was short but built; healthy hips and booty, large breasts straining against the fuzzy fabric of her jammies. She was familiar too; something about her round face and gigantic green eyes struck a chord deep in Abbi’s sleepy mind.

“Well, don’t you two look too fucking cute,” Ariel smirked.

“You should be careful with that language, Ariel,” Kamilla warned. “It’s only the first day, you don’t want to get into too much trouble.”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

Abbi decided to brush her hair and apply a little make-up, just some lipstick and eye shadow. The common restroom had four large sinks, two to a side facing each other, the mirrors reflecting the four girls getting ready into infinity. Off to Abbi’s left, two shower stalls, open at the top but closed with frosted glass in the front. To the right, two fully enclosed toilet stalls (private rooms actually) with rich brown wood doors. One of many touches that gave it away that the Academy wasn’t your normal private college.

“See you down there.”

Abbi took one last look in the mirror at herself, a quick peek at her roommate’s progress, then grabbed her small backpack off the floor and started downstairs to start the day.

“Abbi, wait up!” Kamilla called after her.

“I’ll see you there,” Abbi said over her shoulder.

Despite Kamilla’s invitation that they all go to the cafeteria together, Abbi wanted to make this first walk across the quad alone.

The common room was full of comfy couches and chairs, a big low coffee table stained and dinged from years of use, a many of bookshelves filled with books and DVDs, and a single large flatscreen TV on the wall. A sound system, complete with record player, that looked a lot like the one her grandparents had when she was a kid, sat atop a bookshelf filled with records. The only art seemed to be Academy pennants from years past. The common room and the corridor to the dorm’s one elevator and staircase was empty. Abbi knew that the boy’s dorms were on the other side of the common room; she could hear them getting ready too.

She hustled down the stairs, past the supervisory staff’s rooms, and out the door.

Living in Sarasota her whole life, she was all the time told that she was spoiled by the tropical weather there. 23 years in Florida taught her only that humidity ruined whatever hairstyle she was trying to pull off and made her boobs sweat unsightly rings into every t-shirt even through her bra. During the spring and summer, any time not hiding indoors under the AC vent was best spent in a pool, and that the rain that came almost every evening wasn’t fun or refreshing, only dangerous because of the lightning.

Barely a minute in the LA weather made her instantly jealous of how spoiled Angelenos were compared to people cursed to live in Florida.

The quad was awash with cool fresh air and continuously shaded by more trees than you would think could fit in such a confined space. There were sturdy wood benches and picnic tables, clean white concrete, lush green grass, a couple of winding stone paths disappearing into the tall bushes, and even a small gazebo with pillows and cushions to relax in. It was all protected in by an ivy-covered red brick wall at least 15 feet tall.

On one side of the quad, the stately red brick and pollution-stained marble Page Building stood 5-stories, much taller than any of the houses or condos that crouched at the foot of Mt. Lee. All of Abbi’s classes and tutoring sessions, along with any detention time she earned, would happen in there. She passed by the imposing portico, identical to the one outside facing the street, dwarfed by the Doric columns and felt a thrill of anticipation run through her.

The Page Building made the dormitory building behind her look plain and sad.

On the other side of the quad was the newer, lower user account cafeteria building. Doubling as an assembly room, it was a severe gray concrete building with floor to ceiling windows and a wide-open floorplan filled with modern foldable lunch tables sitting on finished bare concrete. The kitchen and food line were on one side, a study in stark stainless steel and glass, and a low, gray carpeted stage complete with crimson curtain and dark wood lectern on the other. Abbi walked into this vision of efficiency enveloped in a smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee.

College never felt this good before in her life. It was almost too perfect.

A small line of students and staff were getting food, and there was a cluster of students already sitting on a couple of tables near the windows while teaching staff sat together closer to the stage. It was quiet, just the small noises of food being served, and meals being eaten, a few low conversations. Kamilla had finally caught up and got in line with Abbi, saying nothing but sharing an excited look.

The kitchen staff were just as clean and feasible as the meal queue. The illusion was completed by a matronly woman in an apron and hairnet standing at a cash register at the end of the line, entering the contents of each student’s meal and taking their meal vouchers before releasing them into the common area.

She’d eaten institution food before on church camp trips, so the culinary perfection of the simple meal that was served to her was a complete surprise. The healthy pile of scrambled eggs, a pair of crispy bacon strips, a small cinnamon apple muffin, and a cup of hot Earl Grey didn’t last long on Abbi’s plate. She ate quietly and watched as the rest of the students and staff filtered in, acknowledging her fellow Sophomore girls as they sat with her to eat.

The cafeteria began to buzz as more students and staff arrived, not noisy really, but sub-sonically, or maybe tectonically; a vibration of nervous excitement that Abbi could feel coming up through the ground, making her flesh resonate. Abbi cleaned her plate and then sat silently, clutching the warm mug of tea close to her chest.

The silence was finally broken when a tall man in a severe gray suit followed by woman who seemed to be half his size, wearing an equally severe gray skirt and blazer entered and walked straight for the lectern.

The tall man was pale and serious looking, short cropped brown hair, clean shaven face, and fashionable black frame glasses. There was something familiar about him to Abbi, the second feeling like that she’d had about someone since waking up.

The woman was mature but striking, brown hair pulled back into a severe bun, face sharp and seemingly clear of makeup. She looked like a character on an old sitcom her mom used to watch, the one about the bar and all the funny drunk people. Frasier? Abbi could sense the power and control radiating out from her like the confident rays of sunshine on display out in the Quad that fine May morning. She turned on the lectern’s mic and cleared her throat while the tall man hovered off to her side.

“Good morning students and Academy staff,” she said. “I am Vice Principal Johnson. On behalf of Principal Kennedy and the Perfectly Normal Society, I would like to thank you all for committing to this term of educational excellence. To the staff: thank you for your dedication to this Academy, your creativity, and discipline. To the students assembled here for the first time: while you are learning and growing within these walls, know that you will be well taken care of, and that your experiences here will hopefully inspire a lifetime of healthy exploration.”

There was a smattering of applause.

“A few things before I release the students to homeroom, our rules are strict but fair. This building, the dormitory, the quad and its gardens are all safe spaces reserved for you to rest and recharge. While in those spaces and the halls of the Betty Page Building, you will be neat and tidy in your Academy uniforms. Listen carefully to the staff and heed their instructions. If you have any health or security related issues during unsupervised time on the grounds, please bring them to the staff’s attention immediately.” Johnson nodded toward a couple of burly men hovering near the cafeteria entrance that had arrived unnoticed, both wearing black suits with black crewneck t-shirts, sunglasses, and an earpiece.

“Tonight’s fieldtrip will be a private tour of the Chinese Theatre and a screening of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You will all be on your best behavior, remembering always that you represent the Academy while in public. Any individual demonstrating poor attitudes or behavior while in public reflects badly on us all and will be dealt with harshly.”

Abbi looked at the three girls at her table. Kamilla raised skeptical eyebrow her way, while Blair and Ariel looked suitably admonished considering the gravity of Vice Principal Johnson’s message.

“One final thing before I release you all: a great deal of care and effort goes into making these weekends as special as possible for our students. We look forward to seeing your enthusiastic participation this term.”

With that, Johnson stepped apart, and Principal Kennedy stepped up. He pushed up his glasses and regarded the assembly for a moment before speaking.

“Students, you have a short, five-minute break to freshen up, and then please report to Homeroom. Thank you.”

The Principal’s voice and demeanor urged the students to their feet without hesitation. All of them picked up their trays, slung backpacks, and took last sips and bites while heading to the door, except for Abbi. She arose and looked hard at the man, convinced now that she had heard his voice before, that Principal Kennedy was someone she had met before.

The Trip to the Nurse’s Office

Walking into the Page Building for the first time, Abbi did her mindful best in taking in the surroundings.

Abbi had a vague idea of the Page Building’s layout: 1st floor administration offices for Principal Kennedy and VP Johnson, Nurse’s Office, Counsellor’s Office, Library, Teacher’s Lounge. Main stairway and elevators for access all the way to the roof. 2nd floor Homeroom, two classrooms for each for the class age groups. On the 3rd floor were smaller rooms specially equipped for detention and correction. The 4th floor was where there were enough rooms for every student’s private study sessions. The 5th floor was the gym, and there was some kind of garden lounge on the roof.

Students were required to check in at the security desk just inside the quad entrance before heading up the stairwell. Abbi told the burly man behind the desk her name and headed toward the main stairs.

Each stairwell had a enormous old-fashioned mullioned window overlooking the Academy grounds and the Hollywood Hills beyond. Abbi had lagged behind failing to catch the eye of Principal Kennedy and felt alone in the old building as she walked up those stairs. It was an illusion though; dozens of Academy staff were preparing their rooms for today’s lectures and tutoring.

2nd floor corridor was silent, all her classmates already in homeroom, the other classrooms empty but waiting. The Academy’s corridors were like any other, just imagine any TV show or movie high college and you’ve got it. Red tile floor, polished to a high gloss, cream-colored walls with crimson trim plastered with pep rally and SAT tutoring flyers, a high ceiling with fancy unfinished tin tiles, another tall, mullioned window on the other side lighting the scene just right, and a couple of handmade banners promoting upcoming field trips. There was a conspicuous lack of lockers lining the halls, and there were no windows looking in on the classrooms either. The doors to every class were painted blood red with the room number on a plaque just to the side.

Homeroom was plain, naturally lit from high frosted windows, decorated the same as the Academy halls. Abbi suspected that the other classrooms would have more personality on display.

Twenty-four student desks sat in orderly rows facing the whiteboard, and all the students were seated, already self-segregated by class: Freshmen to the left, Sophomores in the middle, and Juniors on the right.

The bell hadn’t yet rung but everyone was there, sitting quietly. Abbi thought how long this collective discipline would last.

She would have been hard pressed to tell the difference between the classes if they weren’t seated together. The assembled group were a diverse group of attractive 20- and 30-somethings. Boys wore pleated khaki pants instead of the red tartan skirts, but their white shirts and crimson cardigans were the same as the girls. About the only difference seemed to be the backpacks each student was allowed to carry throughout their day; Freshmen carried brightly colored packs with cartoon characters and superheroes on them, while Sophomores plain backpacks sat almost forgotten under their chairs, and Juniors either carried laptop or courier bags.

Abbi had a good idea of the 13-weeks of curriculum ahead of her, it had been worked out and agreed to in detail months ago, and she figured the other Sophomores and Juniors would all have weekends similar to her own. She had only the barest inkling of what the Freshmen’s Academy experience might be like and wouldn’t know unless she had a chance to talk with one during lunch or free period in the quad.

The bell rang and the silence that followed was even deeper than before.

A friendly faced middle-aged woman followed by an equally charming older man walked in, dressed in the Academy teacher’s standard gray slacks or skirt and crimson blazer complete with leather elbow patches.

“Ms. Buchanan” wrote the lady teacher, followed by “Mr. Cleveland”.

The assembled students finally took a breath, some of the tension collectively relieved.

“Good morning class.”

“Good morning, Miss Buchanan,” the class obediently intoned.

“Before we take attendance,” Ms. Buchanan began, “and give you your classroom assignments for today, would Miss Abbi please raise her hand?”

She suddenly felt warm despite the slightly chill air, an uncontrollable blush reddening her cheeks. She sat there for a moment, unable to act. Ms. Buchanan’s laser-like focus was suddenly on Abbi and her hand seemed to rise of its own accord.

“Nurse Polk needs to see you in her office.”

All the students’ eyes were suddenly on her, some with mocking looks, others with mild jealousy.

“You had better go now, Miss Abbi” she said with a stern look. “Don’t dawdle.”

“Yes, Miss Buchanan,” Abbi replied in a meek voice, uncertain of what such an early summons might mean. Embarrassment raged on her flushed face.

Abbi slung her backpack on one shoulder and walked out, a wake of snickers and whispered comments behind her. She looked back as she opened the door to discover a friendly face, get some reassurance. Only Kamilla smiled back and mouthed “Good luck.”

Abbi trudged back down to the ground floor to the Nurse’s office. The Page Building was awake now with the sound of wordless voices, hard soles making staccato footfall on polished tile, the scraping of chairs, opening drawers, and the hydraulic wheeze of automatic classroom doors closing.

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