The Assignment Ch. 05

It had been a difficult night. After we had used the canteen, Mistress Hartley had explained dormitories would be shared and had given Julia the choice of either a single mixed dorm or one each for the boys and girls. I had recognised immediately that single sex dormitories would bring consequences but of course that was the choice Julia went for, as Mistress Hartley had intended.

The key consequence was supervision - each Dormitory was assigned an Overseer. So instead of the four of us sharing the attention of one Overseer in a mixed dormitory, each of us was in a room with just one other student. Julia and I were allowed very little sleep throughout the night. Our Overseer, Mistress Taylor, was very keen on regular inspections or light maintenance spankings. She only applied either of these to one of us at a time but it inevitably woke the other one of us, assuming we had managed to get to sleep with the noise coming from the boys' room just down the hall. It was the inspections I resented the most - Mistress Taylor had insisted our dormitory was a no clothes room and so being inspected was basically an excuse for her to study either me or Julia naked. When not being supervised directly, Mistress Taylor had made the no talking rule very clear and so I had achieved very little progress in getting to know Julia, things about her father or why she had come to St. Hilda's in the first place. The only slight advantage I had gained was that I was pretty sure Julia enjoyed seeing me naked and seeing me getting spanked and, most importantly, she liked to have me as a witness to her spankings as well.

Sleep deprivation was tough to take and deal with. We were in our first class of the day and I knew I was going to struggle. We were starting our day not in the classroom but in what had been called the Therapy Room. It was a more welcoming room in that it had windows on one side revealing the early morning light outside. But the mandatory rack of discipline implements was still present on one of the other walls. Julia, myself, David and Christopher were seated on chairs in a circle which was completed by Mistress Hartley and Miss West. An empty chair waited for the return of Michael from his night in the medical bay and as tough as my night had been, I knew his would have been significantly more difficult. As students, we were obviously in our respective uniforms, as was Annabelle. Mistress Hartley had dressed more formally today with a smart trouser suit over a simple plain white top. It made her look more intimidating, as I am sure was her idea. She has a folder on her knee which I knew would contain the essays we wrote yesterday.

"Well, good morning," Jennifer greeted us, " and welcome to day one of your Discipline Therapy course."

That was an obvious trigger and so I was astonished when David questioned her. "Isn't this day two?" he asked, stupidly, ignorantly.

Jennifer turned to Miss West. "Punishment credit for David," Mistress Hartley informed her.

Annabelle was wearing a watch she hadn't been wearing yesterday - her arm had been a primary focus of mine in the Discipline Office the day before so I would have noticed. Clearly this was some sort of smart watch which had been brought into use since my last assignment here and Annabelle used it to record the credit Mistress Hartley had just assigned David. I felt myself thinking the previous method of notebook and pen was more intimidating but then maybe that was the point - this was more efficient and easier to forget and so therefore easier to lose track of the credits you had built up in a day.

"Do you think I don't know how long the course has been going on, David?" Mistress Hartley challenged him.

At least now he paused to think and I did hope momentarily he would realise the error of his ways. "We started yesterday," he replied, bluntly.

"Punishment credit for David for arguing," Mistress Hartley informed Annabelle. Then, "Punishment credit for David for forgetting to address me correctly."

As far as I was aware no other student knew the significance of punishment credits so far but David had already earned himself thirty strokes of whatever implement Mistress Hartley decided upon in the first few minutes of the lesson.

I could see he was going to reply. Even now after an afternoon of orientation and a night in the dormitory with his Overseer, David didn't realise the world his guardians had signed him up for. Instinctively, I could see him racking up so many credits in a short space of time that he would have to endure them in one of the special cells St. Hilda's reserved for extreme punishments.

"Mistress Hartley," I spoke up, "please could you explain the significance of punishment credits to us."

That got me the attention of the room and the inevitable, "Punishment credit for Lily for speaking without being asked to," instruction from Mistress Hartley.

The eyes on me reminded me of the shortness of my uniform skirt as I sat facing inwards to the circle of other students and St. Hilda's staff. But I felt I had to draw attention to myself to save David, even if he was an egotistical moron.

But Jennifer did explain clearly and carefully what each punishment credit entailed. She pointed out how we could earn them now that that our course had started properly and was very open and honest that they could be earned for even very minor transgressions. She then explained that was the point of the course - to hold us up to incredibly exacting standards and change our behaviour and attitudes within a very tight two week timetable. She finished her speech by asking if there was anything else we were unclear of and now was the time to ask if we were, but Jennifer had left us in no doubt at all as to the expectations and requirements of the next fortnight.

Unexpectedly it was Julia who asked a question. Politely and calmly she asked, "Mistress what if one of us wishes to leave the course before it is finished?"

Mistress Hartley turned to her. "You have all agreed, or had it agreed for you, that you will stay until the course if finished," Jennifer explained simply. "St. Hilda's has legal authority over you until you graduate."

"Thank you Mistress that is very clear," Julia answered, in her usual light hearted manner.

But it was as if she had asked that to deliberately antagonise the boys. I could see David was about to express his opinions on the matter and even poor Christopher looked like he was about to protest.

Fortunately for them, their protests withered as the door to the Therapy Room was opened and Michael was pushed in on a wheelchair. From where I sat I faced the door and both Mistress Hartley and Miss West had their back to it. I had to use all of my resolve and stoicism, developed by working as a field agent, to show no surprise or alarm before Jennifer and Annabelle turned to look at the new distraction. Like me, Mistress Hartley displayed no emotion at what she saw but Annabelle was clearly shocked though she recovered herself reasonably quickly.

Michael looked a mess. Broken. He was restrained in the chair by his neck, chest, thighs and ankles. Both his wrists were in casts, the only thing that covered his otherwise naked body. No - I corrected myself - the inner thigh on his right leg had a surgical dressing. He was staring ahead of himself, dead-eyed and vacant and I immediately suspected he was in shock.

But it was the woman pushing him who commanded most attention, and not just because of how she was dressed. Her black high necked, long sleeved latex dress with a red cross emblazoned on it was utterly striking, even without it giving away virtually every detail of her petite, toned figure. Thigh high latex boots covered up most of her legs which the short dress utterly failed to do and she must have been wearing foundation to highlight the paleness of her complex in a perfect contrast to the black of the dress and matching black of her long hair which was tied behind her in a pony tail which originated high on her head.

I realised that for the first time in my life, I was in the presence of one of the Sisters of Mercy. Looking at her and looking at Michael it was obvious that their reputation was not exaggerated. Some in The Institute didn't believe they were real and that it was just a story applied to some of the more enthusiastic Nurses. The anecdotal evidence I had heard over my time in The Institute had me convinced they did exist but looking at the scene before me I was convinced the stories didn't do them credit. There were not meant to be more than a dozen of them within The Institute - no one really knew how many there were of the Sisterhood - but their sadism was apparently without measure. I remembered being told about them when I first became a Prefect and that the name was intended to be ironic. They never gave mercy, but it was the most common word they heard.

The atmosphere in the room was palpable. I hated to admit that Mistress Hartley absolutely won my respect with her response. She stood, indicating we should all do the same and then addressed the Sister as calmly as she would have done a fellow Mistress.

"We were not aware a Sister was here at St. Hilda's," Jennifer explained. "Have you found all that you need?"

When she replied the Sister sound calm, collected, normal, despite the wreck of her efforts being right in front of her.

"Very much so thank you Mistress Hartley. And you were not meant to know of my being here."

If Jennifer felt surprise at the Sister knowing who she was she showed none of it.

"Will you be staying long, Sister?" Jennifer asked. "I can have quarters prepared."

At my time at The Institute I had endured a lot. Discipline, punishment, a variety of humiliations and endurance tasks, all of which had been challenging and some of which, when I had been informed of them in advance, had had me very anxious. But when the Sister of Mercy slowly looked around the room, fixing her stare on each of the students in turn I had never been more terrified. Michael displayed very few outward signs of what he had been subjected to overnight. But the Sisters were reputedly highly skilled in advanced techniques that caused intense suffering without leaving signs.

With her death stare finished, the Sister turned her attention back to Jennifer. "Regrettably, all Sisters have been recalled to The Practice. My Escort is here and I shall leave within the next half hour."

Mistress Hartley took the news in her stride but I could see Annabelle visibly relax and the Sister noticed it too.

"Your Prefect needs to control her emotions more carefully," the Sister advised, a very clear indication she held greater authority than Mistress Hartley.

There was a difficult, tense pause whilst the Sister considered her next words. Knowing Mistress Hartley, I suspected she had predicted what was coming next.

"Shall I take her with me to train?" the Sister asked.

"She is essential for the work we do here," Jennifer replied. "And a very able Prefect despite her only recent graduation. I agree she has not presented herself perfectly before such a senior member of The Institute but she will be corrected for that."

I was aware of the nuances of the conversation. Mistress Hartley stating in front of students of the Discipline Therapy course that Annabelle was also subject to discipline was a difficult situation to put Annabelle in. But Jennifer had also admitted Miss West was essential to the work of a key Institute asset and I was certain Annabelle would prefer anything to being taken by the Sister, especially if she was heading to The Practice to meet the others.

By now, everyone in the room had realised the Sister was someone to take seriously. So there was almost a collective sigh of relief when she agreed to Annabelle remaining as Mistress Hartley's Prefect. Even I was glad. Whilst I would happily see Annabelle over the caning bench and happily apply that cane to her, I would have felt terrible for her if she had been claimed by a Sister.

Leaving Michael in his chair just inside the doorway, the Sister turned and left. Jennifer took action immediately and instructed Annabelle to summon the Duty Prefect, who arrived within a couple of minutes.

"Take him to recovery please," Jennifer instructed. "Tell them he needs fluids, change the dressing on his branding, check his testicles are intact and if not check for internal bleeding."

The Duty Prefect didn't ask unnecessary questions and instead nodded her understanding and wheeled Michael out. The branding explained the dressing on his inner thigh - rumour had it that anyone treated by a Sister of Mercy had the word Mercy branded deep into their inner thigh. I felt sorry for Michael - more wrong place wrong time - but then if he hadn't had been rock hard over me then he wouldn't have been sent to medical. Maybe the Chastity Endurance course would have been a kinder option for him. As we all re-took our seats I doubted we would see Michael again but as Mistress Hartley deliberately opened the folder of essays before her, I was quite convinced myself and the other students would soon have our own problems before us.