Crystal's StorySite storysite.org

 

A CHANGE IN TIME

~

BRENDA

Chapter II

by

Karen Anne Summerfield

Writing as

Cynetta Cynthia Cynclaire
November 1998

_________________________________________________

 

 

The amazons pulled me out of my cell, three lifting me just as they had to place me within it. How any could withstand the assault of the smell was beyond me. It was horrid!

By the time that it took to carry me to my bathroom and deposit my filth-covered body into the tub, my eyes had readjusted to the light. Anne smiled down on me as she knelt, the keys to my bondage in her rubber gloved hands.

"Good morning, mum." My first inclination was to utter some smart remark. I was not in a very pleasant mood. To have done so would score me no points. I worked to give her a small smile.

"Good morning, Anne."

She only needed a moment to release my hands, remove the belt from about my waist and the ankle spreader. My filthy garments followed. Setting the stopper, Anne turned on the water.

"I'll dispose of these for cleaning, mum. I will right back, mum."

Very briefly, I had the thought of escape cross my mind. As quickly as it had occurred, I erased it. Thirty days in that little Hell hole in the basement dungeon had taught me not to want to learn what other punishments might await if I was not pleasing to the man of the house, Papa. I felt totally helpless and subdued. In addition, just where was I going to escape?

Before the maid returned, I had begun to wash myself clean. Anne gave me a very nasty look. Holding her hands out after she had knelt, I placed the soap and washcloth into them.

"Did I do something wrong?"

She started to scrub my back before answering, "It is my job to tend you, mum." Whatever? I wasn't in the mood to debate with my maid.

"Anne, can you tell me about me. You have probably heard that I've lost my memory." I'd spent some of my time in my cell composing and rehearsing questions.

"It's true, I did 'ear that, mum."

I tried to be on my best behaviour, "Anne, how old am I?" She continued to scrub, before answering me.

"You are sixteen, mum." Anticipating one of my questions, "You 'ave seen what you look like. ‘Ow else may I answer you?" At least I had learned Brenda's, my age. I had expected, rather, I had hoped that Anne would have volunteered much more.

"What can you tell me about yourself, Anne?"

"What is there to tell, mum? I'm your maid."

"You mean my father's maid?"

"No, mum. I am your maid. It is you, who picked me. It is my job to attend to you, mum."

"Picked you? How did I pick you? I've no memory of doing so." Anne gave me her questioning look again and shrugged her shoulders.

"Please tell me about yourself? How old are you, where did you come from, your family, things like that, please?" Anne wrinkled her lip; she was not at ease with my questioning her about these things.

"You are clean again, mum. I'll dress you for school.

"I'm twenty-three and I'm your maid." Apparently, she considered that sufficient information for Brenda and was not going to provide me anymore. I did not pursue it further.

School? Her saying this had sent my mind thinking of something other than Anne's or my background. This time, I was to be in the lacing bar to be dried. Knowing it was expected of me, I walked to it and placed my wrists by the cuffs. What else was I expected to do? Like it or not, Anne was going to corset me. If I resisted, though I wanted to, she could easily summon help from the man of the house or one of the Amazons that attended his dungeon. I was no match for either him or them.

Again, hanging by my wrists, Anne corseted me tightly. It did not hurt nearly as badly as the first time - though she had laced it just as tightly, if not tighter.

My stockings were shiny black latex, not sheers. I was going to be wearing these to school? Really, it was more than just a bit kinky for a sixteen-year-old girl to wear and I was expected to wear them to school? What kind of a school did Brenda attend?

"Anne, am I to wear those to school?"

"Certainly, mum. They are part of your uniform." So matter of fact! To Anne, what she was dressing me in was perfectly normal.

Though the tops of the black patent boots were shorter, extending to just below mid-calf, their heels were every bit as high and a bit thicker as the heels I’d worn to dinner. No below the knee length drawers this neither time, nor long petticoats that would have concealed my kinky stockings and boots, my maid worked a pair of crinkling, ruffle-covered briefs over my hips and chastity belt. A very short, very full, stiff and noisy petticoat of the same, white plastic material followed.

I wondered about this radical and bizarre change in costume. Looking down I really questioned the petticoat whose hem ended at the middle of my wrists, far out from my hips. Anne moved to the large closet adjoining my bedroom returning with a white blouse and black jumper; which she laid on my fur covered bed. Sorting out my blouse, I saw her focus on where I stared.

"You look a bit surprised to see your school uniform, mum?"

"It is hard to believe that Papa would let me wear that!" The fetish costume I was to be dressed in was a total reversal from the Victorian attire Julliette and I had worn previously, even the long latex gown of hers. It would shout, no, it would scream, sex!

"Of course, mum. It's required for all of the girls in your form at school."

"Do I attend school, here in the house, Anne?" I could not withhold my question. As soon as I said it with my girlish voice, I knew it was dumb of me to even have asked it.

"Certainly not, mum. You attend class in your school in the city, mum." I co-operated with her to get the snug, long sleeved, latex blouse onto me. After closing the long zipper in back, she lifted the heavy gauge, rubber jumper over my head. This was really what the English once called a 'gymslip' and been part of a school girl's uniform there back in the nineteen sixties, though I doubt they were ever shiny rubber or nearly as short as mine or that they were accompanied by the kinky accessories I wore. Centred between my breasts was an emblem and my first name was painted in the same yellow over my left one.

My maid fitted a broad, yellow and black, striped sash about my tiny waist, tying it with a bow on my left with streamers to nearly knee level. Anne neatly knotted a matching necktie under the collar of my blouse.

"I'll fix your ‘air an' do your makeup pretty for school now, mum." Anne motioned that I should move to my vanity.

Noisily I moved to it. Though I made the motions I'd knew girls made when wearing a skirt, there was no need to smooth my skirt and petticoat under. As short as they were, they rose to let my ruffled bottom rest on the stool before my vanity.

As the first time, Anne made fixing my long hair look very easy. I've said that it is red and it is, perhaps dark auburn with brighter highlights is more descriptive. It tended more to that shade than to the colour of a newly struck penny.

After brushing it smooth then using lengths of ribbon of the same yellow and black as my sash and tie, Anne had fixed my hair into fluffy ponytails above each of my ears and tied bows to hold them. She then moved her brush in rapid strokes to tease my ponytails in to fluffy masses and arranged them in front of my shoulders.

My makeup was no less bold than it had been that first evening, it was bolder! My lips were now painted with a hot pink gloss and sharply outlined in black. Anne dusted my cheeks with pink, not red powder.

Though I had nothing done to my nails in over a month, they required little more that a filing and several coats of new polish. The colour, matching my lips, looked erotic.

I questioned the propriety of my thinking that my nails looked erotic, concluding that it was acceptable for a girl to think of herself as looking sexy, but I'm a fifty year old male, with a sexy teenage body and costumed like a model in Marquis?

Nail polish dry, Anne helped me to put on a pair of yellow and black latex gloves, yellow on their backs and black between my fingers and their palms. She paused to warn, "It is not permitted for you to remove your gloves outside the walls, mum."

"Then why bother to paint my nails so pretty?" It was another stupid question; which I wished I had not asked, as soon as I had posed it. Anne must have considered it to be one too; she ignored it. My mind questioned again, why I thought, 'pretty'?

I had already assessed that Anne was more intelligent than her Eliza Doolittle accent tended to project. She knew her job and her station (I think that is how it was referred to, a hundred years before the event which had placed me into Brenda's tender body). So far, Anne had not stepped outside the bounds of acting as a low, servant girl.

Anne is quite pretty, with raven hair that I guessed might reach her waist and dark eyes to match. With her medium, blemish free complexion; I had guessed Anne to be only sixteen, seventeen at the very most, though she could also pass for fourteen. She had stated she was twenty-three. Of the other females, I had seen since my arrival: Julliette, the three maids and the Amazons, Anne was the only one whose corseted waist nearly matched my own. Clearly, mine was still smaller.

As Anne led me downstairs, the noise of the crinkling petticoat over the ruffles on my panties combined with the squeak of the rubber as my thighs brushed each other and my arms rubbing against my sides seemed to be very loud. I was very aware of this as I descended the stairs holding the marble balustrade for balance on my high heels then mincing through the halls of the house.

It was not to the dining room, but a bright, glassed in porch over looking the ocean where the man and Julliette were seated. I had lots of time to think through what I was going to do and did it. I curtseyed for the first time in my life.

"Good morning, Papa. Good morning Julliette." Her look was questioning, his was a broad, pleased smile.

"Good morning, Brenda. Please sit with us for breakfast?" My curtsey and addressing him, as 'Papa' seemed to have the desired effect of pleasing him. I had absolutely nothing to gain by doing otherwise. I needed time and much more information to figure this all out.

As I moved to the unoccupied chair I could not help, but be aware of my very brief and very kinky attire. I curtseyed again before I sat as gracefully as I could. Deeanna moved to place a steaming bowl before me. Similar bowls, before them, were nearly empty. Without his lead to follow, I felt I should ask.

"Papa, may I eat, please?" I do not think he was prepared for my manners.

"Certainly, Brenda. Of course, eat your breakfast.

"You look very pretty this morning." It somehow did not seem right for Brenda's father to be complimenting his daughter when she was dressed as a model from one of thousands on fetish Websites that had peppered the Internet in nineteen ninety-nine. Perhaps it was the significance of Brenda's attire to me, a fifty-year-old guy from Minnesota. It reinforced how vulnerably exposed I was in my school uniform. It did not appear that I was going to given the option of wearing something other then I was.

I took up a spoon, filled it and moved it to my lips. It did not taste bad, but again I had no idea what it was. Julliette tapped my wrist, offering me a syrup pitcher.

"You are not in punishment, put this on your porridge like you always do, Sis." I tried it. The syrup was super-sweet, tasting like a mix of honey and real maple syrup with a hint of something else that I could not place.

"Papa?" I waited until he acknowledged me with a glance. "Papa, while I was in punishment I resolved that I will try very hard to behave and for you to be pleased with me."

"That is one of the things you were expected to learn, Brenda." I'd no answer to that. I'd already figured it out with thirty days to think about it. I did not want to go back in that cell.

"This past month, you have missed much of your school assignments, Brenda. I have informed the school that you were in detention punishment and the reasons that you earned it." I looked to see if he had more to tell me. He had. "I think that you may be given the work you have missed. This will require that you study hard in your apartment to complete your assignments."

"Yes, Papa.

"Papa, though I have had considerable time to think I still have no memory of the events or any facts preceding the afternoon you and Julliette found me in the forest.

"I do not even know if I have any more of a name than just Brenda or what it might be. I have not lied to you, Papa." I tried to look sincere, even if it was not needed, because I was.

While I continued to eat, several minutes of silence passed before they were broken when he spoke again.

"Of course you have more of a name, Brenda Louise Evershaw." I managed not to drop my spoon or loose control. This was just too unreal! It was pointless to ask if I was related to myself. What is it, twenty-five years per generation? Twenty-five into five hundred fifty, twenty-two generations, or more, removed? Still unresolved for me, was why the planet rotated in the opposite direction.

"Of course, there are other important matters to be sorted out for you."

"Papa, perhaps if I accompany Brenda, show her to the school, it might be easier?"

"I do not think that necessary. Just as on your first day there, Julliette, she must learn to adapt and adjust. Your sister does have a brain. She'll manage. Everyone there displays their name so that will not be her problem."

I wondered if the steaming brown liquid in his cup was coffee. Oh, how I would have loved a cup of hot, strong coffee. None was offered and I dared not to request it. Best behaviour, Brenda. Do nothing to upset anyone.

"Julliette, perhaps it might be of help for your sister, if you were to pilot her to school today." He had apparently had reconsidered her suggestion. "She can take the transport home. This will give you time to explain some of what she does not remember." Julliette bounced in her seat, delighted with his suggestion. I was pleased with the potential that was offered.

Anne fastened a short rubber cape about my throat after retouching my lips. I was handed the small, black patent shoulder bag into which she had placed the lipstick after applying it. Not speaking, she gave me a nice smile with her curtsey. I smiled too and returned her curtsey.

"Thank you, Anne." Anne's questioning look seemed to indicate that she too, did not believe that I was behaving as they expected of Brenda. I saw no way to change Anne's or the others’ perspectives of me.

"Ready, Brenda?" My sister was wearing a jump suit of cream-coloured leather with matching boots and gloves when she rejoined me in the entrance hall. I followed to the rear of the house and through a door to their equivalent of a garage. I would call it a hanger.

Six bays wide, only three contained vehicles. I waited until she approached the middle sized one between a smaller, yet much sleeker one in a hot shade of pink that matched my current lips and nails and one twice as large in dark, nearly black, green.

"We'll take mine this morning, unless you'd feel more comfy in yours, Brenda?" Mine? Obviously the green one was Papa's, leaving the pink one as being designated as mine.

"Yours will be fine, Julliette." Moving next to her, I waited. "I don't remember how to operate it, anyway." That comment drew another questioning look.

"Well, you getting in or what?"

"I said, I remember nothing, Julliette. I meant that." She glared at me, but softened.

"I don't understand. Come on the other side." There, she placed her palm on a mirrored rectangle, which caused what used to be called a 'gull-wing' hatch to open. I climbed in and sat in the contoured seat. I was very conscious of my uniform crinkling and squeaking. As short as my dress was, there seemed little point in trying to be modest and not expose my ruffled panties to view as I thought a girl should. I'd no available way to cover them, though I wanted to.

Julliette entered the seat on the right side as I tried to sort out the straps that formed a safety harness. After assuring mine were snug, she fastened her own behind the craft's controls. A high-pitched, soft whine began as the hanger door before us opened.

I had no idea of how this vehicle was propelled. Of the technology at the root of it, I'd no knowledge. Finally, I was being exposed to the progress of the past five hundred fifty years, but did not understand it.

Looking out, I saw we had lifted, though I'd not felt us do so. Slowly we moved forward until the vehicle was clear of the hanger and Julliette manoeuvred toward the entrance in the surrounding wall.

"Stupid wench. One of these days I'd like to punish her." We had to wait until the steel grate was raised and the drawbridge lowered before she could glide across the moat and takeoff.

"Who?"

"Zella! She's been told enough times, what the schedule is.

"If she weren't Papa's playmate, I whip her, but good."

I felt myself pressed back and down in my seat as she rapidly accelerated, climbing as she did. Though I had questions about the man whom I was now calling 'Papa' and what Julliette had just said, I saved them.

"We'll go slow to give me more time to talk to you, Brenda." I watched her depress buttons on a keypad then another on the control yoke. She released her grip and turned in her seat toward me.

To get to our destination, Julliette flew low along the coast. I noted very few signs of habitation beyond the cultivated fields. Though I'd been told it was March, the crops looked ready for harvesting. I wondered where all the people had gone then remembered that I still questioned if I was on the same planet.

"Bren', I heard what you said about having no memories. Think you can explain so I can understand?"

"I can remember facts. I can remember how to do things like two plus two is four, but I can't remember the people or anything else in my past. If I could explain this, I would." The steel between my legs and spreading my cheeks was uncomfortable. I tried a different position.

Julliette slapped my rubber-covered thigh, "Stop squirming like that, your chastity belt is not intended to come off, just 'cause you want it to." It was as if she read my mind, but I guessed my attempt to get more comfortable clearly indicated what I was thinking.

"Before you do it, let me warn you about two things, Sis. We do not complain about our chastity belts, nor our corsets. You don't say a peep about them, not to your maid, not to me and, most certainly, not to Papa." I was about to ask why not? Julliette smiled at me, "Not a peep, unless you want to experience what real punishment is."

"Any time you think your corset is too tight or your belt is bothering you, you push those thoughts as far away as you can. If you think Anne laced you tight, think what Zella could do. You saw her and a few of her tribe. If Papa gives the word, she can make you wish you were dead instead, Bren'."

"Can you tell me what Zella's position is and the others in the house, please?"

"You needn't be so formal.

"Whatever happened, you're different, Sis." Julliette shrugged. Knowing a past I did not, she probably understood more than I did.

"You understand that Anne is your maid?" It was a question. I delayed mine until she finished.

"Angelique is mine and Deeanna, well, she runs the show and tends to Papa's other needs." She did not need to spell out what they were. "Deeanna is the only female in the household who doesn't wear steel panties.

"Zella and her happy tribe don't either, as you probably saw." Julliette's look questioned if I understood before she continued.

"Zella is kind of special. She's supposed to be a Princess, or something; we're not to question it. When it comes to doing her duty above everything else you can think up, if ever in danger, Sis, you put Zella between danger and yourself."

"Just what is that supposed to mean? What danger?"

"A year or so ago, Zella and two others took me for a walk outside the walls. It was a gorgeous day in spring. I guess we were a half hour from the house and I was really enjoying the sunshine and hearing the birds. You could smell the flowers.

"From nowhere, we were attacked by three barbarians." This was turning into a Sci-Fi novel. I'd no cause to think that what Julliette was recounting was fiction and no science seemed to be involved. Dira and Chara moved to defend; while Zella took a moment to assure, I was secure. One of the men got past their guard and was about to strike Zella as she locked my leash." This was almost unbelievable, yet I did believe her. "Chara threw herself between his sword and Zella. I had to see her head fall from her body." Julliette shuddered and her eyes squeezed tight for a moment.

"Dira was keeping her own ground with the other two. Exactly what Zella did, I do not understand? With my leash locked about a tree, she stood straight and drew her sword. You haven't seen it yet, but I can barely lift it with both hands, Sis.

"The giant barbarian came to a complete stop, lowered his sword, which was about to strike, and backed away. If Zella has some power, I do not know. Well, if she did, she released it and they engaged. Zella and I are here. You can figure who won the fight.

"Dira died two weeks later from her wounds, but the other two died in the forest - by Dira's sword.

Julliette laughed. As if her tale had not been told, "All that aside, Zella and Papa, well - like Deeanna, she tends his needs.

"If you listen to nothing else, put Zella between you and any danger, Sis."

I wanted to ask lots of questions. Julliette did not give me a chance to. "We're close, I've got to pay attention." As she flew into the city, Julliette told me a bit about school and what to expect.

"Good luck. Take the transport home this afternoon." I exited. The hatch closed before I could ask another question.

Watching as her craft lifted and departed, I still questioned how it was propelled.

Very conscious of my brief, kinky uniform and the noises I made walking in it, I moved toward a group gathered together. At least my uniform did not set me apart from theirs.

"Hey, Bren'. Welcome back." A boy in a male suit of the same rubber as mine called. He looked really silly; in his very, short pants that were part of it.

"What, you been sick, or what, Bren'?" the questioning girl wore the identical uniform, complete with cape, but lower heeled shoes.

"Bet you got yourself in trouble and put in punishment." The voice was sultry. A tall blonde, very attractive, approached and grinned. She was at least six feet tall in her bare feet and the heels of her knee boots were a full inch higher than mine. Moving close to my side, close enough to compress her own petticoat into me, she crouched and bumped my hip. "Was that what happened, little Brenda?" I felt as frightened of her, as I was of Papa when he was angry. On her cape, the painted name was 'Jacquilene'.

"Yes, I was in punishment, Jacquilene."

She laughed. Taking hold of my gloved hand. "I told you, before, its 'Jacqui', Pet. Don't forget again." There was a tall boy next to her. I wondered what the extent of my relationship with Jacqui was? Though I was questioning how I should react, the frightened feeling I'd had melted with her soft touch - Jacqui almost caressing my hand in hers.

"So - what did you do to get punished?" The others were silent.

Best to stick with the truth. "My father and sister found me unescorted outside the walls of our house," Reluctantly, I thought I should tell the rest, "without my belt on."

"Serious shite." The boy with Jacqui spoke loudly. "Without your belt? How'd you ever get out of it, Brenda?"

A bell, signalling the beginning of the school day gave me the excuse not to answer him. Julliette had told me I was a friend of Jacqui's and that she was in my classes, but not what sort of a friend. I wondered now, just what sort of a 'friend' I was supposed to be? No, I knew. I am smart enough to figure it out.

Before we entered the classroom, I took a chance to confess my lack of memory. She stared a moment then tweaked my nipple through the rubber that covered it. "Just sit next to me, Pet. No one will question it."

All stood beside the chairs. Jacqui and I did the same. Our teacher was a man, much older than Papa.

"Good morning, boys and girls. You may be seated." Despite all of us being teenagers, my classmates seemed much more disciplined than when Jason had attended school. He called the role. I tried to note everyone's name among the twenty present.

"Miss Evershaw?"

"Present, Sir." I answered as a few of the others had.

"Come forward, Brenda." Dutifully I rose and approached him on a dais. When I dropped a little curtsey’ it caused a big smile to appear on his face. "Quite a bit more, err, more demure, now, aren't we, Brenda?" Just what did that mean? "Perhaps your father should have punished you sooner then we'd not have had some of the past problems with you?" What past problems? I was not prepared to deal with countering his claim. I dropped another curtsey.

"I will be better behaved, Sir." He looked sceptical. Until I got just part of this sorted, my logic told me that there was only one way to function in the environment I found myself in. I should be contrite, polite and demure.

"I'll judge if you can tell the truth - for a change." He pointed to a spot beside his desk, "Get in the place." I moved to the few steps and mounted them, then moved to the separated yellow tiles that marked where I was expected to stand, spreading my legs to place my boots on them. "Come, Brenda, face the wall, lower your panties to your knees and stand with your skirts raised, high. You know the position. You've been there often enough before." Okay. He knew I had been, I did not! Why was I expected to stand, exposing myself like this?

He had described the position well enough for me to guess the details. Feeling totally helpless, humiliated and embarrassed, I was thankful not to have to face my classmates. Surprisingly there were no giggles, nor comments. Had they stood on the yellow tiles too? How many times before had Brenda stood exposing herself as I was now?

Mr. Ingles, that was his name, began to review each pupil's homework assignments. I dared not turn to watch. "Brenda, have you completed your homework assignments?"

I wanted to protest that I did not even know that I had any. I wanted to protest that, for the past month I was in punishment totally denied any contact with another. Still holding my skirt and petticoat, high up, I dipped my knees. "No, Sir." There was no other acceptable reply in my mind.

"Ten with a number twenty-four cane. Failure to complete your homework. I've noted it, Brenda." He proceeded with the lesson for the day.

"Marla, describe your understanding of earth changing its rotation, please?" He began to conduct a lesson in history.

From a physics perspective, her explanation made no sense. Unless Newton and Einstein were totally wrong, there was no way. Without comment, he posed the same question to a boy named Jeremy.

"Mr. Ingles, the comet passed near to the South Pole in nineteen ninety-nine, with tangential gravitation. Our planet simply flipped about. What was north became then south."

"Very good, you may be seated." Though the teacher accepted this explanation as fact, it made no sense, none! If just that were even possible without the crust crumbling to dust, it would only switch North to South, but East would still be east and the sun would still rise in the East. As an engineer, I could not accept the answer. I thought, as Brenda, perhaps it would be better if I simply did and let it go until the engineer had real data, not fantasy.

"Kym, tell the class your understanding of the changes that occurred after the comet passed."

"Well, ninety percent or more of the humans died. Some, due to climate changes they were unprepared for and could not adjust to and agriculture really suffered. The seasons were all switched topsy-turvy. A large number just were killed because of the suddenness of the changes and the tidal waves." I could accept Kym's answer. Ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine might be a closer estimate.

"Thank you.

"Charlene, can you tell us of any beneficial changes caused by the comet?'

"Of course." I heard those behind me chuckle and giggle.

"Yes. Of course, you can. Proceed." His tone mocked her, in a joking way.

"The dreaded disease, called AIDS, became extinct. There were no breeders to transfer it.

"With ninety percent of the human population dead, adequate food and water became no longer a problem. The survivors migrated to the areas that could sustain and nurture them.

"Proper control of females, finally began only in twenty sixty-six, that's when the AIDS thing really started to be controlled and finally died out with the males who carried it. With that in place the quality of our population has also improved." Charlene obviously did not support a feminist point of view. Though I'd no knowledge of the facts, I did have lots of questions about what passed for acceptable responses.

"James, tell the class why the boys are not belted like the girls must be?"

"Well, sir. It's like this. Girls like Brenda there, were made to be fucked. I can get it off in their mouth or arse, it doesn't matter that her cunt is behind steel. No way do I want to tend a baby, if the slut gets herself pregnant." Some, mostly boys, chuckled. Teenagers had not changed that much in the time since I had been one. Still his language surprised me, more surprising was that it was tolerated.

"That will do", our teacher just let it go at that.

Again, I was glad I was not looking at their faces. Apparently, Brenda, me, was a rather loose girl with a reputation. I could feel my face burn, standing where I was exposing my naked rear. Why was I doing this? More correct, why I had I been ordered by the teacher to do this? What had Brenda done to be in my position?

"Yes. That is one point of view. Does anyone wish to offer another? Yes, Jacquilene?"

"It is true that our belts keep us from having babies without the necessary permits and clearances once our key holders agree. Just as importantly, we don't transfer diseases like women used to."

"Good point, but men can transfer disease to another as they did centuries ago."

"A male who does it with another male, isn't a man, Mr. Ingles. They deserve what they get." Seems homophobia was alive and well now, too.

Another voice, also a girl's, "Its not fair that the guys can have Pleasure and we can't! Babies and disease besides."

"There is Pleasure and there is Pleasure, Suzi." It was Jacqui's voice speaking again. "Our belts are mostly the same, but they don't fit us the same."

"Expand on this, Jacquilene."

"Well, Mr. Ingles. A lot of us can get under and - well, give or take Pleasure, even though a guy can't get it in. Most of us can take Pleasure if our titties are played with in the right way. Brenda can vouch for that." Her mentioning me, and the approving laughter that generated, supported the initial guess I had about Brenda's past and her relationship with Jacqui.

"Yes, I'm sure that she can, especially if the right one plays with her. Right, Jacqui?" The entire class laughed at Mr. Ingles' comment and I think he chuckled with them over my continued embarrassment. I was no longer having many doubts about Brenda's past.

"I'm curious, Jacquilene, don't answer if it embarrasses you." That brought on a round of chuckles laughs and comments. "Can you get under Brenda's belt?"

"Much as we want to, no. The fit on Brenda won't permit anything anywhere close to where it might help her."

"I'm sure. Thank you, Jacquilene."

"Yes. For tomorrow's assignment, each of you will write an essay on the subject of taking Pleasure while belted. Boys, you will write it as you have experienced it with your girlfriends or imagine that it is for them."

I heard his chair slide back. The touch of something hard on my naked, exposed cheek caused me to flinch. "Touch your toes, Brenda." I'd been told that I was to be caned for not doing my previous homework assignment, but this was very embarrassing. Having stood exposed like he had made do and hearing all that some of my classmates had said about me had been bad enough.

It couldn't be that bad. I bent forward, despite my corset telling me I couldn't. I did it from the tops of my legs.

"Hold position."

I heard the cane cut the air. THWACK! The instant and intense pain was almost beyond my belief. Not just where it impacted, but deep. I fought to stay in position, resisting my urge to rub away the hurt.

 

THWACK! The second was as bad as the first.

 

THWACK! When the third one buried in my flesh I lifted my fingers from my toes, clenching my fists to attempt to deal with this.

"Hold position, Brenda, or I shall begin again."

 

THWACK! I was crying. I wanted this to stop!

 

THWACK! Silly me. Stupid me. I had thought a spanking would not be a bad punishment.

 

THWACK! True, this wasn't exactly a spanking. THWACK!

I was biting my lip, trying not to beg him. THWACK!

 

THWACK!

 

THWACK! I started to straighten. I knew my count, despite my tears was correct.

"Hold position, Brenda!" I moved back down to obey. I did not want to be caned any more.

"Do any of you observe any difference with Brenda between now and the last time she was caned?"

"Brenda is crying." A girl offered. I heard several giggle and murmured comments I couldn't make out.

Another, "She's never cried before."

"Yes, Jacqui? You wish to say something?" Obviously, they knew, including Mr. Ingles, more of what relationship I had with her than I did.

"Stop making jokes about Brenda. She's lost her memory. Yeah, she still looks like my Brenda, but she isn't thinking like she used to. I warn you. Stop it."

I guess it was Jacqui's uniform rustling and squeaking a few moments then her getting reseated that I heard. I questioned her speech, but hoped it might ease my situation too. Strangely - Jacqui's warning had quieted the room.

"Fix your uniform, then resume your seat, Brenda."

Through the heavy flow of tears, I was surprised to see no one even smiling now. They had been silent throughout my caning. Many lowered their eyes or turned to not look at me when I minced back to the seat next to Jacqui.

I would learn that if anyone had commented or made light of another's punishment while it was being administered, that would earn double, for themselves. I would also learn that no one wished to have a place on Jacqui's list. I thought of what Julliette had said about Zella.

I was prepared that my butt was going to hurt, but not how much when I rested it on the chair. I felt little else, but deep pain and throbbing. As hard as I'd been caned I had no doubts that this was not going to go away any time soon.

A bell signalled the end of class. Gingerly, I stood when the others started too. Jacqui turned me to face her. "Your makeup is a mess." Without hesitation, she began to repair it from my purse. "Try to stop crying, Pet."

As she worked, I had the time to look at her closely for the first time, though it was Jason doing so. Jacqui, as I stated, is fully a foot taller than Brenda necessitating that I must look up to her, literally. Actually, I must look up to everyone that I have encountered so far. My diminutive stature is just one more thing I must adjust to. Almost all my life I was looking down to meet another's eyes.

With attractive brown eyes, quite heavily made-up, I wondered if her blonde hair was blonde at its roots, though no dark showed there. She wore it in a loose ponytail at the base of her skull, fastened with a band of black leather.

"What are you thinking, Pet?" Her face was neutral, but I sensed a hint of amusement in her words while she worked around my eyes.

"I was wondering if you are a natural blonde?" This caused her lips to widen into a big smile revealing less than perfect teeth.

"Only my hairdresser knows." She made a joke of it and did not answer the question.

All stood again, when another bell rang and a different teacher entered the room. "Be seated." Our next teacher was a woman. I guessed her about thirty, a bit pudgy, but not obese. Slowly I sat again, careful not to move quickly. As she looked about the room, her eyes landed on me and a smile formed on her face.

"Welcome back, Brenda. Feeling a bit ill this morning?"

As I stood to answer, a boy behind said, "Mr. Ingles caned Brenda for not having her assignments, Miss Chevas."

"Thank you, Robbie. I'm sure Brenda could have told me herself."

Directing her eyes on me again, "Perhaps, one of these days, you are going to learn that it is easier to obey then to disobey, Brenda. Resume your seat." Her smile broadened as she watched me rest my swollen cheeks.

I was learning quickly that Brenda had not been a well-behaved schoolgirl; perhaps I should strike that prefix. She had caused herself to get into trouble often at home too. This would explain a reason why I seemed to be singled out.

Miss Chevas taught trigonometry, an easy subject with Jason's education and experience. Miss Chevas and my classmates seemed quite surprised when I easily answered any question on the subject that she put to me. Completing each answer with a curtsey.

"You have changed, Brenda. Please share with me and the class what brought about this miracle?"

How should I answer this? "Papa punished me for disobeying him, Miss Chevas. I resolved that everything might be much better for me if I conducted my actions as I'm expected to and not earn anymore punishments."

Miss Chevas gave a disbelieving snort, "We'll see how strong your resolve is. I, personally doubt you can complete an entire day without misbehaving or not being disobedient, Brenda." Was the girl whose body I occupied really that bad?

We changed classrooms for our next class. I stayed close to Jacqui, along with about half the students that had been in my first classes. We entered a room with what appeared to be enough computer consoles for each of us.

"Yeow! That hurts!" I yelped when someone smacked my sore cheek. Turning, it was a tall boy.

He grinned down at me. "Lookin' sexy, Brenda", as his arm snaked behind me to cup my sore cheek and pull me into him.

"Stop! That hurts!" I tried to push his hands away and got a very hard squeeze on the deep welts for my efforts.

His other hand pulled my head so he could kiss me on the lips. Though I squirmed to get away, I couldn't and his kneading my very tender rear hurt me a lot. I felt humiliated and used.

My knee rising rapidly into his crotch would put a stop to this, but his height and the precarious balance enforced by the height of my heels prevented me from contacting my intended target.

"Pig! Stay away from me!" I was furious and tried to slap his face as I tried to push away.

Everyone was silent, staring at the guy and me; I'd tried unsuccessfully to put down. The man entering the room did not appear to be very pleased with what he saw.

"What's going on, Robert?"

"Brenda tried to knee him, but good, Mr. Stern." It was the boy, Robbie, who tattled on me.

Turning to me and glaring, "Fine return to school, you are demonstrating. Why'd you try to do that to your boyfriend?" Boyfriend? How was I supposed to have known that? "It never seemed to bother you before to let him maul your little body anytime he wanted to." He had moved to stand between the boy, Roger and me.

Why was I the one being blamed for what happened? This was not fair! I guessed I was in trouble. I'd nothing to say that I could think would do any good. Brenda apparently had not behaved well in her past, so all was Brenda's fault.

"Jacquilene, please escort your friend to Mrs. Martine's office then return to class?"

"Sir! This was not my fault. He was hurting me and all I did was try to defend myself and get away from the creep," I squeaked! My words seemed to have no influence. This was extremely frustrating. It seemed I was already judged guilty and my opinion and defence were not going to be even heard, much less considered.

The boy, my alleged 'boyfriend' Roger, had a look of pure hate when I followed Jacqui pulling my arm and leading me from the room.

"Why'd you try to kick and slap him, Brenda? You never got uptight before when he felt you up or anything?"

"I did today. He was hurting me where I'd been caned. I didn't like him touching me like that and then forcing me to kiss him." Her look seemed very questioning.

Mrs. Martine, by the plaque below her name, was the Headmistress of the school. When I stated my name, the secretary immediately escorted me into her office. Fiftyish with black hair in a braided coil on top of her head, she looked hard as nails. I guess even in this time, they picked the principals, in part for looking intimidating.

"What's it been, Brenda, just a little more than three hours since the school day began and you're in my office again?

"Luckily, you inflicted no serious injury, but easily you could have. This time you will no longer have any opportunity to display your bad behaviour in this school - ever again."

I’d tried to defend myself and now she was talking expulsion!

"But - I can explain, Ma'am." I had to try! I already knew that everything was concluded to be Brenda's fault and at least trying to defend my actions was worth a chance.

"Explain what," her words almost were spit out at me, "trying to knee your boyfriend without any warning when all he did was kiss you?" Mrs. Martine drummed the top of her desk with her knuckles glaring at me. "Go on. It might be amusing to retell your story at the faculty meeting this afternoon." I was near to tears. They just could not punish me like this. I'd done nothing wrong!

"Ma'am. I lost my memory, just a month ago. I am telling you the truth.

"I do not remember any events or my actions in my past. To me, Roger was a complete stranger who, well, he took liberties with my body and was hurting me. All I did was try to get away from him."

"He's been your boyfriend for over a year. If not for your chastity belt, you'd be a mother by now the way you two carry on and you know it, Brenda." The tone of her voice and the things Mrs. Martine was stating diminished my hopes of convincing her of anything.

"I would like the opportunity to show everyone that I can behave. I would like to prove that what you know of my past, that I honestly do not, is not the Brenda you see now, please?" Perhaps a much different approach might work where my outright denial and meagre defence was not. I may be and look like a sixteen year old sexpot; that was no reason to toss fifty years of education and experience aside.

The harshness in her expression perhaps diminished a smidgen, letting her still hard look seem almost neutral. While she stared at me that way, I felt I should keep quite and allow her to make the next move.

Drawing her breath, Mrs. Martine formed a slight hint of a smile, "Perhaps, just perhaps, you are trying, for a big change, to tell the truth." Abruptly, Mrs. Martine stood. She moved from her desk to stare out the window behind it.

"Tell me again about your loss of memory, Brenda?"

"A little over a month ago my sister and father found me in the forest near our home, Mrs. Martine. I was either asleep or unconscious. My sister, Julliette, awakened me. I had the worst headache I can remember."

Strange, how can I say I remember, and also say I do not remember? "I can remember things, facts, science, mathematics and some things I have learned, but I can not remember my experiences. I can remember nothing that was in Brenda's, err, my past."

Her head turned to me to ask, "Continue. What do you mean, you remember nothing of your past, Brenda?" Her look was again to the outdoor scene.

"Just that, Mrs. Martine. I do not remember being Bre... being me. I've no knowledge of anything or anyone here prior to being awakened in the forest." This time, she did not turn away after she had faced me to stare.

The intensity of her gaze made me mentally uncomfortable. My corset and chastity belt were already more than uncomfortable, physically. Mrs. Martine resumed her chair behind her desk. "If, just if, I were to accept what you have told me, given that you have had more than proven your ability to tell some quite convincing lies, Brenda. If I were to believe you this time, what would you want me to do with you?"

I was not prepared for such a serious question; more so, I was prepared for another punishment to be unjustly inflicted. I had to think to compose a good response.

"I would like to be given the chance to show you, everyone, that... I can be what is expected of me, Mrs. Martine."

She laughed. "What we expect is what you have been showing us for some time, girl."

"I want the chance then, to show that I can abide by your rules and behave as you expect a young girl should, Ma'am." She seemed to be impassive, eyes scanning me. I just tried to sit still. I'd little choice about sitting straight.

"All right then. I shall grant what you ask. I'll give you that one chance." Mrs. Martine turned to what appeared to be a computer on her desk and typed for a few minutes. I was very relieved to hear her words. The fear of punishment had been with me throughout this ordeal.

"I've composed an announcement, one concerning your 'stated' lack of past memory. Shall I post it, Brenda? Say 'yes' and you have your one chance."

Mrs. Martine faced me from her display screen, "Brenda, you will be treated as if you are a new pupil here by the staff. I cannot control your classmates' relations with you. You started today with a clean record." She laughed, apparently recalling something.

"I can do nothing to undo the caning you received. Let your sore little ass be a warning, a hint of just what you can earn here." She pressed several more keys and again faced me.

"Return to your classes."

"Thank you." I dipped a curtsey believing any more words were unnecessary.

*****

The console next to Jacqui was unoccupied; my eyes had immediately sought her out. I had no one else to turn to. I next sought the teacher.

He was apparently informed. So quickly? As our eyes met and I curtseyed, his head signalled me to the empty place with a warm, very encouraging, smile on his face.

"Be seated, Brenda."

I tried to avoid the stares from the others as I minced to the seat. Jacqui's eyes were on me, seemingly both surprised and concerned. To tell her I was OK I gave her a small smile and dipped a little curtsey before gingerly lowering my sore butt onto the chair. Very strange, as Jason, I had never thought about curtseys, but as Brenda, I was finding them to be very powerful gestures with which to communicate.

Before me was the modern equivalent of a computer or a terminal at least. As I scanned the keyboard and pointing device before me, I expected these to be markedly different - they were not that unfamiliar. When his hand rested lightly on my rubber covered shoulder I froze - as his touch was unexpected and startled me.

"You need to enter your password, Brenda." Before I could state that I did not remember it, Mr. Stern leaned forward to lift my right hand to the keys.

I let him move my fingers to enter my sister's name and depress the return. He still hovered, leaning over my shoulder and making me aware that my ponytail was brushing against his cheek. It felt really weird, to have a man so close and feeling him with my hair.

"All were assigned an essay to compose by Mr. Ingles, Brenda. You may use this time to do so."

He left my side only to return a moment later pulling a stool to sit beside me. Mr. Stern compressed the full petticoat to get himself close enough so that I felt his leg against my stockinged thigh. This made me quite uncomfortable, but I dared not move away.

Mr. Stern coached me through several screens and dialogue boxes. These were different, but not so much that, if given an hour I should be able to navigate my way through the applications. With the state of software in Jason's time, I concluded that there might not have been that much further to go in developing radically, new interfaces.

Once I had entered a word processing application I found it quite 'user friendly' and very easy to learn. He left my side to observe my classmates. Much calmer, once I no longer felt the heat from his body so close through my latex, I began to compose the essay that had been assigned. I did not wish another caning because I had not completed what I had been told to do.

I was more comfortable once I began to calm. My tight corset, the steel encasing my lions and the latex uniform began to bother me physically. I wanted out of all three. If I thought about it, I had also had enough of being Brenda. It would have been hunting season back home in Minnesota, the time of year that I thought and planned for throughout the previous year.

I was a semi-purest when it came to this annual vacation playing 'Mountain Man' while enjoying it. Though we have no real mountains in Minnesota, I'd pretend I was in the Rockies, surviving on my wilderness skills to sustain myself for two weeks. What I did not carry on my back in a heavy pack, I would obtain from the land just as the Mountain Men in John Muir's time had.

Yes, I made concessions in my choices of equipment and supplies, but had not gone 'hi-tech' with them. The rifle I carried was one I'd built myself, chambered for a thirty-ought-six cartridge. I had made it completely with my own hands and the machinery in my workshop. I had even taken a piece of steel shafting and bored then rifled its barrel myself.

I was supposed to be writing an essay on chastity belts, not thinking of my lost vacation! My chastity belt? I had no opportunity to touch it and explore the possibilities of what might be locked underneath the steel. The boy, James, had mentioned getting off in my mouth or elsewhere with a 'girl like Brenda'.

Jacqui had come pretty close to stating that she and I had engaged in sex together despite our belts. Jacqui had also stated she could not get under mine.

Typing with rubber gloves and the long nails on my fingertips that they covered would require a lot of getting used to. I remembered the warning that Anne had given me when I started to peel one off.

I thought more than I input the keyboard, but managed to get a few hundred words composed before our teacher, Mr. Stern told us to, "Save your essays to a 'wafer'. Your essays are due by tomorrow morning."

"Jacqui, I don't have a wafer and don't know how to save this", I tried to be quiet. She, like everyone else looked as if she did not believe me. Still eyeing me sceptically, Jacqui extracted two blue disks, the size of quarters and passed me one.

"You owe me." I watched her insert the one she had retained into her terminal and press the 'Save W' key.

I imitated Jacqui to save my file on the disk.

 

END - Chapter Two

 

 

 

*********************************************
2001 by Karen Anne Summerfield. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.