"Pamela! Packed yet? Girl from Avondale is here!" shouted Mrs. McNee to her daughter up- stairs.
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 ner- vously 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 com- ment. 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 proce- dures 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,
1t 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 involun- tarily 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 Pam- ela'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 to- gether, stepping high up to the floor deck, The girl's raincoat was short, and so was her skirt obvi- ously, for Pamela saw a flash of her whit,e panties.
