Endurance Academy For Wayward Girls Ch 04

CHAPTER FOUR: MATT

AUTHOR NOTE: This is a serialized work of fiction with all character under the age of 18. This chapter is told from Matt's perspective. He's the college boyfriend of Abby Collins, who finds herself sent to the academy for behavior correction by him - as well as other things yet to unfold. Here Matt gets to see what Abby's been through so far. If he can find some time to watch.

...

I flipped open my Mac and saw the link in my Gmail just like the woman from the academy had said I would. What did she say again exactly? That Abby was going to get some time to take a nice long break from me and everything else. Sometimes things get too much for some girls and they just need a little "help."

And client? I don't know about being a client of anything. I found that place online and it looked like a good idea to me after a bowl and a couple of beers. She can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Abby that is. Needy but not in a fun, dirty, sexy way. Always complaining, always wanting something. Yeah take a break and get it together.

I decided the email could wait. It had to. I was late to class again and as ever on thin ice just trying to make it until winter break. Sad to admit a few weeks into the semester. I grabbed my hoodie, laptop and was out the door in two minutes.

I ran across campus, the early chill air cold in my lungs. Cut down Sycamore, across Pine, then across the park to the English department. I could just make it. But turning the corner, I ran right into her. "Hey, jerk!" It was none other than Maddy Scherber yelling right in my face and picking her shit up from the sidewalk where I'd knocked it flying. "If my phone's cracked you're paying for it shit for brains," she said picking up the phone and examining it, then the rest of her junk that girls lug around in their bags. Lip-gloss and whatever.

"Not even a sorry?! WTF." She stood up and looked me in the eyes or tried to. She can't be taller than 5'4" even in those boots and came up to my chest. I made like I was going to pick up her bag. "Don't even. Leave it," she snapped.

I grabbed my own backpack and started to head off. "Hey," she yelled. "Where the hell is Abby anyway? She's not answering my texts. None of them. I mean she's a bitch but she never ghosts." I shrugged and attempted a smile. "You know if you've got her chained up in a basement, or the trunk of your car, you're going to get caught you know that right. Perverts always pay!" Her sick joke hung in the air as I turned and started out to make an ever faster dash for my Saxon verse class. Ugh. Talk about a way to start the day.

In class I did what usually did. Set my phone to record, saved the class links from Professor Donegal's page and switched off my brain to look for better entertainment. To my right a row in front the delicious rear view of Allie Jamieson's ass as she leaned forward to hug hello to some loser. Look at that skirt. Tight. Short. What a slut. I'd still fuck her of course if she wasn't so goddam uptight every second of the day. I looked around.

Jen Randall's thighs. Smooth and tight from wherever she did when she wasn't flat on her back for literally any guy from any team any night. How many times had she spread them like a filthy bitch? How many hungry, greedy hard cocks in her?

That's how class goes. And went that day.

"Mr. Allen," the professor's voice right as I had one foot over the finish line and the end in sight. "Mr. Allen, a moment please. Have you seen your, ..., friend Miss Collins. She owes me three pages. Please pass that on to her if you happen to run into her."

She owes me a lot more than that, I thought.

"Yep."

...

My apartment was quiet. Everyone out for the night at McKinnon's party. The usual end to a Friday and start to the weekend. Beers. Shots. Sloppy drunk semi naked girls dressed like strippers doing blow and giving blowjobs in the skanky downstairs bathroom then coming upstairs and giving their boyfriends a hard time for looking at another girl. Jocks jerking each other. Girls getting fucked. Guys getting fucked. Speakers cranking whatever.

Back in my room I finished the burrito and opened my email. Clicked on the link. The title "Update from Miss Morgan." And then the video played.

"Hello Mr. Allen, as promised here is your intake report. Please let us know if you have questions or even directions for our services."

The video was dimly lit but there she was. Lying on her back on the bed, still, maybe asleep? She was chained by her wrists; I could see that now. And her ankles, to the bed frame, legs spread impossibly wide. The camera zoomed in awkwardly, glitchily and I turned up the volume with a few quick taps of the key. Was she moaning? It sounded like it. As she tried to move, the chains clinked and clanked against the metal bed frame.

I could see now that she was blindfolded and her head rolled from side to side. Definitely not asleep. Then the voice over started.

"We had her checked in earlier and she's had a little bit of a rocky introduction, I'm afraid. We don't always restrain the new girls, like this, but Abby needs it. It's going to be every night for some time, by our estimations. And we have her properly stretched and plugged too you will be pleased to hear. When you do receive her back, you'll find her far more accommodating -- in many ways.

"She was very upset earlier when we were putting her to bed, so she's had no food and our rules state that disobedience is never rewarded. Still, she could stand to lose a few pounds and trim up a little. We're going to get her down to an ideal weight for a girl of her size. Let us know if you have any weight preference in your feedback form, Mr. Allen. In the meantime, here are some outtakes of her evening earlier..."

I watched. Abby bent over a wooden horse of some description. Ha. She'd never wear anything like that. I've barely even seen her in a dress or a skirt, ever. Then I saw. The line of men. The spreading of her legs. The fingering. The fucking. Mechanical and hard and rough until it was stopped. Abby writhing and fighting and losing. My mouth hung open. Wide. WTF. This. Was. Insane. It also wasn't anything I ever imagined. But as I watched in what, shock, horror? Another thing happened. A tightening in my pants. Fuck, I was hard.

The video ended and a screen popped up. Feedback Form.

I answered the questions automatically, stunned.

Do you consent to receive further updates? Yes.

Do you find these updates valuable and informative? Yes.

Do you have any further directions for our work with Miss Collins?

I paused and then slowly typed...

Continue. Do not stop.