Reformatory Girls Ch. 01

Finally it comes to a halt. It is all out: there is no more. Gasping, exhausted, Clare feels more like she has given birth than emptied her bowels.

"Are you done?" asks Matron.

"I think so," says Clare in a small voice.

"Stand up then," says Matron. "My God what a stink."

Clare feels almost too weak to stand. Now it is over she is becoming acutely aware once more of her nakedness, of the whole class having witnessed her ordeal. She looks hopefully towards her clothes: but there is one final humiliation to be endured.

"Bend over the desk again," says Matron.

Clare does as she is told, and watches Matron take a wet sponge from the trolley. She then has to endure having her bottom sponged and wiped by Matron -- as though she were a little girl again. That done Matron rubs at her roughly with a white towel until she is dry.

"Stand up and face the class," orders Miss Bulstrode.

Cringing with embarrassment Clare obeys.

"When I tell you to open your bowels you will open your bowels, whatever methods I have to use. Do you understand?"

"Yes Miss Bulstrode," says Clare.

"Very well: get dressed and get back to your place. As for the rest of you: if any of you want to fart in my class you know what to expect."

Several of the girls squeeze their sphincters, making absolutely certain they will not find themselves undergoing a similar ordeal.

Back in her place with her clothes on Clare wonders if she will ever live this down. All her good intentions, all her impeccable behaviour -- and still this has happened to her. She tries to console herself that at least she has been spared the riding crop -- though in truth she would far rather have endured the riding crop than what has just happened. She tries also to console herself with the sympathetic looks she is getting from the other girls. They aren't all heartless or selfish: they understand what she has been through.

The clock says 3.20pm: it is almost time for afternoon break. What a relief it will be to get out into the recreation yard.

Then Miss Bulstrode drops her final bombshell.

"Since we've wasted over thirty minutes of my lesson on this uncooperative girl," she announces, "there will be no afternoon break. Instead you will carry on with your lesson."

Although no-one dares to speak, the mood in the classroom changes as though a switch has been flicked. Instead of receiving looks and glances of sympathy, Clare suddenly finds herself the recipient of some of the darkest, most malevolent looks she has received in the two months she has been resident in Hazely Reformatory. No, she cries out silently, No, please, don't do this to me. But Miss Bulstrode, having made her pronouncement, is already writing figures on the blackboard.

"You bitch," Clare hears somebody nearby hiss at her. "We'll get you in the Dormitory tonight."