Author's note:
This is the last chapter in the "Private School" series. Please do not ask me to write any new chapters. I'm serious about the writer's block. I appreciate all of the compliments that I received, but some stories just have to come to an end sometimes. I hope you enjoy this last chapter. I love my fans and I love the fan-mail and all of the compliments, but this is where it all ends.
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Heather had been enrolled at Miss Porter's School for Girls for seven months now and she hated it. It seemed more like seven years what with all the harsh discipline and the punishments for even the slightest infractions of the rules. And the rules were just much worse than any other school she'd even been to (or ever even heard of)! She wasn't allowed to leave school property, she wasn't allowed to wear any clothing or any kind, she wasn't allowed to use the phone, she wasn't allowed to masturbate, she wasn't permitted to have any pubic hair between her legs and she wasn't allowed to use her hands to cover up her nudity!
And then; of course; there were the visits to the receiving room.
Well, the
teachers
referred to it as the receiving room. Heather referred to it as the repenting room. It
was true
that she received guests there, however those guests were always people whom she'd pissed off in her younger days and now they wanted retribution for all the wrongs (both real and imagined) she'd inflicted on them in the past.
Heather had been spanked and strapped and slapped and yelled at and lectured and berated and pinched and forced to apologize over and over and over again to those she'd offended. Most of these people visited just once. They explained to Heather what she had done to make them so outraged and then they inflicted some sort of horrible punishment on her naked flesh and made her cry. Heather always ended up apologizing profusely at the end and then Heather's guest would subsequently leave and never come back.
Well,
most
of the guests would never come back.
For some reason Tracy was far more resentful and unforgiving about all the verbal injuries and personal attacks and childish practical jokes Heather had inflicted upon her. Every week Tracy kept coming back and punishing her. And every week Heather apologized profusely to Tracy, but Tracy's fury and resentment against the penitent never seemed to diminish. She was still just as angry at Heather as she was seven months ago.
On this particular morning Heather was being escorted to the receiving room by one of the school's uniformed security guards. Heather was afraid of the security guards and she would go wherever they told her to go. Honestly the tight grip on her arm wasn't even necessary. Heather wasn't brave enough to disobey or run away. She did what she was told to do, simply because she was afraid of the consequences if she disobeyed.
Heather was escorted naked into the receiving room and she let out a heavy sigh. The receiving room looked suspiciously like a police interrogation room and the things that happened in here weren't any more pleasant than being interrogated by obnoxious detectives that were relentless in their attempts to get you to confess to some sort of serious criminal infraction.
Heather looked down at her naked body. The soft skin of her naked thighs, breasts and abdomen were currently unmarked and smooth. She anticipated with dread the likelihood that they would soon be covered with reddish-pink marks from a riding crop or a leather belt or a leather strap or some other unforgiving instrument of punishment.
When Heather looked up from her naked body, she was surprised to see that the "guest" in the receiving room was not Tracy, but rather some middle-aged blonde woman. Heather couldn't recall having ever seen her before. Up until now, everybody who came to visit Heather in this room had some sort of grievance they wanted to settle with her. Heather's spirits lifted slightly, as she was reasonably certain this woman had no reason to punish her.
"Come on in, Heather," the blonde woman said. "I thought it was time that you and I finally meet."
The security guard pushed Heather forward, considerably harder than was necessary and then closed the door behind her. Heather could hear the lock click after the heavy door was slammed shut. A stern reminder that whatever was going to happen in this room today, there was no way Heather would be able to escape it.
"Come closer," the blonde woman beckoned while making a gesture with her right hand that basically indicated the same thing. "I'm not going to bite you."
Heather had been bitten several times before in this room, usually on her poor, abused nipples. The phrase, "I'm not going to bite you" held more meaning here than it did most places.
Heather's hesitant feet took eight cautious steps forward, until her naked, vulnerable body was within an arm's reach of the fully-clothed woman with her shape-skimming black blazer and black dress pants. Being constantly naked made Heather jealous of anybody who got to wear clothes and this woman made it even worse by flaunting her stylish all-black fashion choices. Heather knew that she could rock that outfit if the school would just allow her to wear some clothes.
When Heather was standing close enough, the blonde woman gestured to her laptop computer. The computer confused Heather. When she met people in the receiving room, she was accustomed to them bringing in handcuffs or a riding crop or endless lengths or rope to tie her up, but nobody had ever brought in a computer before.
"Do you know what that is?" the middle-aged woman asked.
The answer to the question seemed obvious. "It's a computer," Heather responded. She couldn't imagine why the question was ever asked in the first place.
The woman gave Heather an enigmatic smile and took one of Heather's hands in her own. "It's where you were born," she said to Heather as she pulled her closer.
At this point Heather concluded that this blonde woman must be crazy. However, that was okay with Heather. A sane woman would most likely be mercilessly swatting Heather's naked ass with a riding crop by now, so crazy was a welcome respite from all of the sane women she'd been dealing with.
"Take a closer look," the blonde woman coaxed, as she gestured at the computer screen.
Heather looked at the computer screen and saw a directory of stories by somebody named "Schlank". The blonde woman directed Heather to pay special attention to the stories entitled "Private School". There were four chapters in that series so far.
"I'm the author who wrote those stories," the blonde woman announced. "I created you. I also created this school and everyone in it. Everything I write about you comes true."
Heather read the synopsis for each installment in the story. Every chapter centered on a girl named Heather. In chapter one, Heather is enrolled in a very different kind of school. In chapter two Heather is examined by the school doctor. In chapter three Heather learns more about her school, and in chapter four Heather is punished in front of the entire school.
The chapter descriptions sounded quite a bit like what Heather had gone through even since she got to this school. Heather was now wondering if this crazy woman was some sort of stalker. Maybe she knew somebody who worked at the school and told her everything that happened here. That seemed like a security leak, but if this woman was writing about her and everything she wrote was accurate...
