“You’ll find this school to be different from others that you’ve attended,” Alice said. “We’ve developed our own system of taking care of young women.” She looked directly into Amanda’s eyes – held the girl’s gaze with her own.
“Please understand me, Amanda. We get many students like you. Young girls who’ve lost their way, and have problems with authority and school. They’re not really bad girls. There’s no such thing. But these girls have disciplinary issues. Girls who have sent to us by parents or the authorities, because they’ve given up on them.”
Alice smiled, but there was no humor or warmth in her face. Rather, it was merely a showing of teeth. “They send the girls to us that they may learn discipline. Humility. Self-awareness.”
Alice licked her lips and let her gaze stray to Amanda’s breasts, where her bra was clearly visible through the thin cloth of the schoolgirl’s white blouse.
“One of the ways we do this,” Alice continued, “is by attaching all new girls to senior students, in order to learn from them.” Alice’s smile was positively wicked. “And you have been attached to me, Amanda.”
Amanda was wary. She tipped her head. “Yes,” she said. “And what is it you expect me to learn?”
“Whatever I demand.” Alice caught Amanda’s eyes again. “You will attend to my every need, and follow the rules that I set down when we are inside this room. At school, you follow school rules. But here, in our room, I am your Mistress and you will obey all of my wishes.”
Alice extended her index finger to Amanda’s chin and tipped her head up high. “If you do not do as I say, I will contact the administrator of this school and tell her of your disobedience.” Alice glanced at the girl’s breasts again. “I understand that if you’re forced out of this school, your next stop is juvenile detention.”
Amanda held her tongue, but she was afraid of this girl: angry and afraid.
It was strange. Alice was a few years older and cruelly beautiful. Yet she was threatening Amanda with reform school if the latter girl didn’t comply with every demand and whim. Amanda didn’t have a clue what those demands would be. Amanda couldn’t cook, didn’t clean and was good only at making trouble.
Amanda looked down for a moment. Everyone she knew had given up on her: her parents, her friends, and her boyfriend. Only this strangely violent girl in front of her seemed to give a shit whether Amanda lived or died.
As if to confirm that thought, Alice cleared her throat: “Look at me, girl,” Alice demanded. Her voice was soft, but the threat was real.
Amanda looked up slowly.