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| Skyhook_The_Academy |
Written by Mrs Skyhook.
Thirty minutes. Not long to… do something. Escape was obviously out of the question, so what to do? She looked around the room. Laid out on the bed was a selection of clothes. Closer inspection revealed they were all in her size. So, she could choose what she was to wear, or what she was to take off. Numbly, she wandered into the bathroom. The bath was big and deep, and there were small bottles of expensive oils and foams on the shelf above. I'll have a bath, she thought, and work out what to do.
A fifteen minute soak later and a plan of action still hadn't presented itself. Still wearing a towel, she looked again at the choice of outfits laid out on the bed. Stocking, suspenders, underwear, blouses, skirts, a glamorous and slinky-looking dress. nothing cheap or slutty. Men of taste, then, she concluded. Aware that she hadn't much time left, she wriggled into lingerie (silk, cool and soothing against her hot skin) and then the dress. The full length mirror in the corner showed a stranger. She felt like a little girl playing dress-up, but she looked… good. Scared and pale, but good. Time stretched…
The knock at the door startled her. Time snapped back. Sasha gave her a nod of approval, then frowned and said “Shoes?” They were by the bed, glittery and higher heeled than she was used to. She slid them on. Sasha smiled, then led her out of the room.
Down a long hallway, a flight of stairs and another long hallway. Miles of carpet that took seconds to cross. The wooden door in front of her opened. All she could see was a blank space with a bench in the middle of it. Slowly other things in the room came into focus – tables on a slightly lower level, glasses sparkling in the low light. The men from before. A knot of panic threatened to stop her breathing. She swallowed it away, and entered the room.
She was standing on a low stage, lit brighter than the rest of the room. The men at the tables were looking at her. She couldn't see their faces. All was quiet. She turned back to Sasha, panic showing in her face. Sasha's voice was firm. “Strip”.
The girl thought “But I don't know how to strip. Do you want me to dance, tease, what?” Sasha's voice again, cutting through the confusion. “Just strip”.
Uncertainly, she reached behind her and pulled down the dress's zip. The noise of it was so loud she winced. She pulled one shoulder strap down, then the other. Her pale skin seemed to her to glow against the dark silk of the bra she'd chosen. She slipped her arms out of the dress and then allowed it to slide down her body, puddling at her feet. She bent down to pick it up, folding it meticulously and then, not knowing where to put it, laid it gently on the floor to one side. It was too beautiful and expensive to just throw somewhere.
Refusing to look directly at the men she couldn't see anyway, and not knowing what else to do, she unhooked the bra and folded that neatly, adding it to the dress. Then the knickers, the silk whispering gently against her legs. She unhooked one stocking, then a voice from the room said “Leave the stockings on”. She looked up at the men, confused again. Several of them seemed to be nodding. She rehooked the stocking, knowing it was nearly time, refusing to think of what was going to happen next and stood, in her stockings, suspenders and high heels, feeling exposed and foolish.
A 'click-click' of heels on the stage, and Sasha took her hand once again, leading her to the bench. “Kneel” she said. The girl complied, awkwardly in her heels. Hands against her inner thighs ordered her to spread her legs, then she felt the cuffs, cold against her ankles, buckled on. Tentatively she tried to move her feet, but she was secured in place. Pressure on her back, obediently she leaned forward, bracing herself over the bench with her hands and feeling the cool air against her cunt. She wondered idly if she was wet already. She didn't feel turned on, exactly. She felt disassociated from her body.
Her hands were removed from the bench and cuffed to the floor. Her head low, her body supported by the bench, her arse in the air and her cunt exposed to anyone who cared to look. Her field of vision was filled with Sasha as she finished buckling the second wrist cuff. Sasha stood up, nodded to the audience and said “Gentlemen. Your entertainment is ready and willing.” Then she left the stage.
That knot of panic rose up again. Sasha was, in some weird way, a protectress. And now she was gone. The girl swallowed the fear away, allowing her mind to drift somewhere… else.
**
Part three to follow at 10 p.m.
