Return to Avondale

Their room was on the second floor, and as rooms went, was really quite nice and comfortable. For one person. There was 'only one chest of drawers and one bed, the latter very narrow and obviously meant for one girl. The implication was not lost on

Pamela and Donna, but neither remarked about it,

Nor did they comment on the pair of chains hang- ing from the ceiling.

The girls unpacked and immediately found n space problem for their things, but the solution was forthcoming from Pamela.

"Look, hon, this whole thing isn't gonna be a picnic. This isn't a hotel. We're squeezed in here like two peas in a pod, and the idea is very.clear.

We're gonna be one, not two! We're just about the same size. Let's just throw all our stuff together in t,he chest and not worry about what belongs to whom. We'll just wear each other's stuff. What say'?"

"Even panties?"

"Why not?"

"O.K. by me, love."

In the early evening, Jan appeared and took the girls down to the library to meet the "in-charge."

Pamela had thought about the headmistress or warden or keeper or whatever one calls her. Her visions conjured up a woman of fifty, hard, masculine looking, severe clothes, with a forty-foot whip in her hand. With spikes in it. Her vision was nicely shattered by Ravan who sat waiting for them in a recliner chair. The woman was perhaps forty, still with a slim, lovely figure and a face of classic feminine maturity so natural to that age.

She would have appealed to men of any age, and pleased them well. It was not a haidened face at all. Indeed, it was a face of soft loveliness with most attractive and understanding eyes of green.

Her skirt was short, in style with the times, and her legs were still very much fit to wear such things. She motioned for the girls to sit.

"My name is Ravan," she said in a soft voice.

"Not Miss Ravan, or wardeness, or mistress or anything else. Just… Ravan. I am in charge of the ten slaves that are here. Jan is in charge of you two specifically."

It was that word again. Slaves. How easily and naturally she had used it, the same as Jan!

"Avondale is not.a game. It is not fun… at first. You consider yourselves fortunate to be sent here rather than jail, I'm sure. Within very many days however, you will be willing to trade your six months here for a few years in jail You can count on it. But. in time, that will pass. There is a school of thought that young ladies are redirected more efficiently by a shorter and more severe incarcera- tion, than by languishing in jail for two or three years. The latter seem to come out worse than be- fore, but an Avondale girl leaves a very beautiful and reoriented young lady indeed. Society has willed, mistakingly I might; add, that the training of young ladies in 'proper schools' is against the grain of modern living. A century ago, even thirty years ago, England abounded with training schools. Not prisons, or reform schools, but, proper schools of great esteem where every young English girl would give her right arm to at,tend. It was an honor, for such girls who were fortunate to go left as beautiful young women."

"In those days, the cane and the whip and the chain were considered part of becoming a lovely young woman. Girls knew that they required such things, arid their parents did too. It was as much part of training as studies or posture or good grooming. It was not feared. It was wanted. Girls were thrilled to be able to attend such schools, and the punishments and the rings were accepted with pleasure."

Pamela and Donna listened with rapt attention to this rather exciting history lesson! They held hands,

"Then, of course, society became benevolent. Or so they thought Such schools were disbanded in the interest of 'decency'. They were hand-wringing fools of course. Those who made laws were not female, and they had no concept of what girls re- quired or desired. They knew not that punishment is the greatest blessing a girl can accept, for it molds her into a creature of pure delight.

"Even women's prisons were changed. The do- goaders decided that a well-applied whip to a woman's body was much too 'medieval'. So instead of an internment of a few weeks with some con- structive whipping each day, the social reformers decided that it was much more 'decent' and proper to throw a woman in jail for five years! When she gets out she's bitter, morose, older, and hasn't gained a thing towards being a beautiful woman.

The utter fools!