Sarah Porter's Schooldays

Chapter 13. In which Sarah learns to dance

Sarah stood behind Murphy, waiting for all the girls to form their lines. She stared at the Irish teen’s beautiful red hair and contemplated the lesson they had just had. She couldn't say she knew a lot more about her, or any other, pussy after the lesson but she would get a chance to watch it all again later. The degradation she had suffered being used as the demonstration model for a lesson on the pussy was tripled when she thought of the fact that the entire thing had been videotaped and would be kept in the library for other people to watch.

As the lines started to move Sarah was once again thankful that she was not a leading girl. She had not been shown the dance hall and had no idea where it was. Her nipples stayed achingly hard on the journey to her next class. The constant switch between arousal and movement in her uniform had conspired to give her almost no respite for the entire day. She knew that her collar was supposed to be a constant reminder of her status, and it was, Sarah was not denying that the pressure of the metal collar around the tender flesh of her neck was not an ever-present reminder of her change in life, but her hard nipples and wet panties were equal, if not better, reminders of the slut she was being trained to be.

The collar was an object, artificial. The way her body was responding to the training, to her new life as a slut was what was confusing the schoolgirl. She was unable to keep her thoughts straight on anything. One moment she was adamant that she was not a slut, could never be one. The next her pussy was creaming like a dairy and she was responding to questions like a sex-mad fiend.

All her teachers had praised her for her instincts and the obvious natural way her mind and body worked. That had confused her, but what affected her more, what unbalanced her to the point of total confusion, was how she reacted to the praise. She had become flushed with happiness and pride. She needed time to reflect on everything that had happened. She needed time to process her feelings and emotions. She just needed some time to herself.

Sarah almost bumped into Murphy so deep was she in thought. They had reached their destination. It was a corridor like any other and Sarah had taken no notice whatsoever of the route. She really needed to pay more attention. She knew it would be just after four o'clock, at least she had managed the presence of mind to look at the clock as she left her last class. A minor triumph, and one which seemed to only reinforce her predicament, her new life of constant adherence to demeaning rules, but one which she held on to and which made her feel good.

"Enter," came the strident cry from the open doorway in front of the two neat lines of girls.

Sarah followed Murphy into the room, scanning her tag at the ubiquitous door scanner. The room she entered was everything she expected. A long rectangular hall of polished wooden floors, similar to the gymnasium though not as big and without the myriad of coloured lines. One entire wall and again on one end of the room, was a giant mirror. A wooden bar ran the length of the mirrored wall. A row of arched windows, set high in the wall lit the room with copious amounts of natural light., which, coupled with the bright halogen bulbs in the ceiling, created a room in which there were no shadows.

"Form up in a single line in the middle of the room. Face the mirror." said the new teacher, her clipped, business-like tone coloured by a hard-edged accent Sarah could not place.

"My name is Madame De Witt. You will refer to me as Madame. There will be no speaking in my class. I do not need to hear anything from you except Yes and No. Do you understand?"

"Yes Madame," eighteen schoolgirls responded in chorus.

"My job is to teach you sluts grace of movement and to move your bodies in a sensual way. You will not only learn to dance for the pleasure of others but you will learn how to inform all your movements, your entire body, with the natural grace of a slut. That may very well sound easy to some of you but it will take great discipline and great pain before your bodies move in a natural way. First disrobe and dress in your leotard. For future lessons when you enter my room you will do this immediately then form a line at the bar."

As the dance teacher had lain down the laws of her class Sarah had watched herself and her classmates in the long mirror they faced. She had to admit that her class made an amazing sight. Eighteen beautiful schoolgirls, dressed in the same uniform, lined up and standing at attention was something she found strangely appealing.

Sarah now turned with her classmates and moved to the uniform hooks by the side of the door. She began to undress hanging her blouse and tie on the same hook as the leotard. Once she had removed her skirt and panties she lifted her entire uniform off the hook, retrieved her leotard and replaced her brief outfit.

"Shoes and socks will remain. The heels that you wear are perfect for slut dancing. I know that some of you may be inexperienced with them but a slut never benefited from mollycoddling."

Sarah had not been about to remove her shoes and socks, but obviously some of the other girls had. It had occurred to her that dancing in these heels might be difficult but she was equally sure that it was exactly what they were going to be doing. Her instincts again? Or was she picking up on some subtle signals?

Sarah spread the leotard out in her hands to get a feel for the item. It was a little confusing at first but with a twist or two it soon became apparent. It was a one piece leotard of a soft stretchy material. The front was low cut and the back was shaped in a Y, similar to her gym bra. The crotch of the piece of clothing was what had mystified Sarah at first. It was soon clear that not only was the leotard a g-string but the material that would cover her pussy was very narrow.

The naked schoolgirl gathered the leotard and stepped into it. It was only a matter of seconds before she had pulled the straps over her shoulders and pulled the material tight. It was almost like a second skin. Her pussy was cupped securely, her lips pushed together, creating an image of an extremely plump pussy indeed. It was cut high over her hips and came together in the thin g-string that cleft her asscheeks. Her hipbones were clearly visible as the high cut left nothing but a vertical bar of skintight material almost all the way to her bellybutton.

The reinforcement under her breasts and the strong support provided by the Y back helped to cup and cushion her breasts, creating a delightful amount of cleavage exposed by the low cut. As soon as Sarah felt she had the uniform on right she moved over to the bar. She watched herself in the mirror as she walked. What she was wearing was less a leotard than a piece of lingerie a porn actress would wear. The way her pussy looked, cupped so severely in the sheer material, caused her to blush. Wearing some things just may be worse than being naked she thought as she took her place in line.

"When in my class all hair is to be tied up in a bun."

Sarah glanced at her teacher as she moved to turn her ponytail into a bun. Madame De Witt was tall and willowy. Her movements, even when she shifted her weight from foot to foot were graceful and fluid. Her every movement was also highly sexually charged. She did not have the sultry sensuality of Miss Rice but Sarah envied the way she moved. The young girl watched her walk along the row of girls, tying their hair. This woman definitely knew what she was talking about and appeared to practice what she preached. She was confident that anything she learned in this class was coming from definite experience.

Sarah quickly and efficiently tied her hair in a bun. Some of the girls with shorter hair had simply stood still, unsure of what to do. She could see Cox in the mirror struggling to tie her hair back. She had fine blond hair that was just of a length for a ponytail but she couldn't seem to get the volume to stay in a bun. Madame De Witt stood behind her and glared, causing the young girl to became increasingly agitated.

"Forget it," the unhappy teacher said, finally putting Cox out of her misery. The simple act of failing to tie her hair in a bun had seemed to upset Cox as much as any of the more demeaning tasks of the day.

"Right girls, everyone is appropriately attired. Your uniforms are designed for maximum ease of movement and to enable a clear view of your bodies as you move. It is important for our training to see the movement of the muscles. Dance will be a gruelling aspect of your training at Harkwood but the benefits a slut gains are immeasurable.

"A slut is to bring pleasure in everything she does and in my class you will learn to bring pleasure and serve your betters simply by moving: by walking, by bending, by such innocent acts as pouring a drink. By the time you graduate from my class you will be able to make a gentleman erect and a pussy wet simply by walking into a room."

Madame De Witt smiled as she spoke to the girls. Yes, they were large claims but she not only had the experience but the ex-students to back them up. These blank slates would soon be strutting and sashaying like true whores.

"First we are going to learn the very basics of ballet, that most graceful of dances. This is to provide a basis of movement that you can build on for your actual dancing. First position. Face the bar. Heels together, turn the balls of your feet out completely so your toes are pointing away from each other forming a straight line.

"No, no, no, no, no. Sluts, listen. Heels together, now slide your feet around so they form a straight line, parallel with the wall."

Sarah shuffled her feet into what she hoped was the right position. She was not a good dancer. She never went to the school dances and the times she had danced at home in front of the mirror had proved that her rhythm and grasp of choreography was dismal. The very first position she had to adopt had already bamboozled her. She thanked the gods of dance for the mirror, as she was able to watch the feet of the other girls and copy.

"Second position, same as first position only your feet should be about one foot apart. Why are you sluts moving so much? You are already in first position. Second position simply means you moved your feet one foot apart. Back to first position. Now to move to second, step your left foot to the left. Better. These are the basics! I should not have to babystep you through them. I sincerely hope you are not going to be a disappointing group of sluts.

"Third position. Keep your right foot turned as in first, now move your left foot in front of your right, left heel touching the ball of your right foot, feet touching."

Sarah was confused. She moved her foot into the position she thought was right but saw Murphy's foot looked different. She tried to decipher the backwards appearance of the mirror, dreading what her teacher would think of her, disappointed in her inability to grasp what was being said. Madame De Witt looked to be one teacher who would not be praising her. Sarah was suddenly annoyed at her defeatist attitude. It was precisely in these classes that she needed to try harder.

The slightly uncoordinated schoolgirl finally managed to shuffle her feet into the correct position. She vowed to watch Murphy like a hawk. Her Irish friend had obviously done some dancing before.

"That was atrocious. Fourth position, same position only one foot apart. Step your left foot forward. Keep the position, don't turn the feet. Third position, back to fourth. Third position, fourth. Right now it seems you have mastered those two difficult steps," their teacher said, her voice dripping with scorn.

Sarah felt the sting of her teacher’s words. She was most definitely one of the reasons Madame De Witt was unhappy. She was doing her best but she knew the old adage of "doing your best was all you can do" would not cut it at Harkwood. Being trained to be a slut to serve others was not a situation where near enough was good enough. Service and obedience did not come in grades of A, B or C. You either did or did not and she knew that in her new life one of these states was not acceptable.

"Fifth position, similar to third only now your feet should be heel to toe. Sarah's eyes were glued to Murphy's feet. She copied her classmates movements and soon stood in fifth position, the strain of the unfamiliar posture telling immediately on her legs.

"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. More than half of you sluts are not able to even adopt this position. The class will hold this position until every one of you is standing correctly. I suggest you try harder sluts, as your little friends will be suffering because of your ineptitude."

Sarah felt the truth of her teacher's words. She was already struggling to hold her legs straight. Her thighs were burning and her knees had a constant tendency to start to bend and bow.

"One more. Everyone is waiting on you Shah. You are letting your class down. You are letting me down. And you are letting yourself down with your substandard performance. Do you like to dance Shah?"

"Yes Madame," the humiliated girl replied, trying desperately to twist her feet into the unusual position.

"Then why are you so terrible at it?"

"I am a slut Madame," the almond-eyed teen replied, almost in tears.

"Finally Shah. Maybe a little self-realisation was all you needed for motivation. Back to attention."

Sarah almost groaned as she moved her legs and feet back to the more familiar standing position. As she relaxed, Sarah flicked her eyes up Murphy's body. She drank in the beauty of the milky flesh of the Irish schoolgirl. Her pussy was beautifully cupped by her leotard and the blue material only highlighted her porcelain-like skin. When she reached Murphy's face Sarah realised her friend was looking at her. She tried a tentative smile but Murphy did not reciprocate and she looked quickly away, desperate to get Murphy alone to talk and set the record straight. She was dying inside having her friend think badly of her.

"Grand Plie. Second position. Hands on the bar. Your hands are a guide only, they are not to be used to generate any force. Bend your knees outward as you move your body down. Keep lowering your body, backs straight, until your thighs are parallel with the ground. As you reach the lowest point, lift your heels from the floor.

“Watch your thighs, calves and belly. Note the movement of the muscles. Porter I said watch YOUR thighs, not your neighbour's pussy."

Sarah went bright red as the class became aware of her inappropriate gaze. Her eyes flew back to her own body, the heat of humiliation coursing through her body. Even as she looked at her muscles, as she had been instructed, she could not help but glance at her own pussy. It was like being told, "don't stare at the red dot" after which you could not look at anything else. She desperately hoped that her pussy had stopped producing juice. Her nipples were still hard, clearly visible poking into her leotard, but she was not sure what the effect would be with the leotard cupping her pussy so tightly. Would her cream leak out, drip from the sides?

"Ten grand plie. Keep to your form. Back straight at all times. Focus on the muscles of your body as you move. Learn how your body works. A slut must know her body, know how it moves and what it is capable of before she can truly please her superiors. If I catch a girl watching anyone else they will receive an infraction. Another slut's body, while pleasing to watch, will not help you understand your own. Do you understand Porter?"

"Yes Madame," the schoolgirl responded, thoroughly demeaned before her classmates at being singled out. She had no one to blame but herself though. She should have been doing as she was told, not staring at her friend. She was sure Murphy had an even lower opinion of her now. Sarah kept her eyes glued to her thighs as she moved her body up and down, her legs spreading widely, exposing her pussy with each downward movement. She couldn't help but imagine what her pussy would look like without the leotard cupping it like a second skin. She was sure her lips would part, opening the inner folds of her sex to scrutiny.

Sarah felt the strain of the exercise intensely. Her thighs and calves tensed as she lowered and raised her body. Her young legs were stressed, keeping her legs wide and in line with her body, the muscles of her belly and lower back working to keep her body upright throughout the movement. She had completed only four, keeping pace with the girls beside her, before her breathing started to become laboured and a glistening sheen of sweat began to form on her bare flesh.

Sarah was unsure who was setting the pace but a quick surreptitious glance in the mirror told her that all the schoolgirls were performing the exercise simultaneously. As she raised her body for the tenth time Sarah let out her breath in relief. Her legs were quivering as she stood still after the exercise, gym class had really taken it out of her. Sweat was running down her chest and trickling between her breasts, her thighs gleaming under the intense lighting in the dance hall.

"Battements tendus sluts. This exercise will strengthen and tone your feet and legs. This exercise is to be performed with a count of four. I have very little confidence in any of you getting this right so turn around to face me. You weight is centred over the ball of your supporting foot. First count, slide your leg out in front. Second count, to the side. Third count to the rear and fourth count back resting at your side. Remember to keep your foot off the floor, back straight and head up. Move your leg as though you were standing in a big tub of honey - slow, smooth movements.

"Back to the bar, ten battements tendus left and then ten right."

Sarah spun back to the bar and tried to copy the movements of Madame De Witt. Her teacher had moved almost without effort. Her slim body had remained motionless as her left leg had spun around her in one graceful movement. Her teacher was not wearing any shoes but the pointing of her toes had imparted the beautiful tensing of the calf that Sarah saw when she watched her own leg swing slowly around her body.

"Mitchell, count in your head. I don't want to see those lips moving, save that for when they are wrapped around a cock."

Sarah felt sorry for Mitchell but the casual introduction of profanity by the teacher had shocked the schoolgirl. She was not sure why really, this was bound to be a class like any other. Madame De Witt had been focused on dance, she was obviously passionate about it. Sarah just had the impression that she was different, interested only in teaching them to dance, but she was just another teacher, teaching them how to be a slut, making sure the class knew what was expected of them.

Sarah was making sure to keep the movement of her leg in time with Murphy's. She dared not look directly at her friend but she could see the movement in her peripheral vision. On the fourth repetition, Sarah's leg dropped slightly as it moved out to her side, touching the floor for a moment.

"Stop. The count will start again. This time Porter, keep your foot off the floor. Do not drag your feet along the ground like some lame animal. Begin."

Sarah cringed, knowing she had let herself and the class down. She had actually been looking at her nipples, still hard and making two visible bumps under her tight leotard. She had wondered if she would ever have her nipples return to normal when her foot had scraped the ground for a split second. She couldn't believe she had caused trouble for her classmates over something so stupid. She needed to get her mind off her body, but then she was being told she had to be constantly aware of her body. Aware but not obsessed she told herself, ashamed of her tendency to reduce everything to a focus on those parts of her body that were overtly sexual in nature.

The harassed schoolgirl focused intensely on her balance and posture and watched her leg slide around her body, internally keeping up the four count. She tried to block out everything but the exercise. Before she knew it she had completed the ten on her left and immediately started on her right. This was easier than the plie, she thought to herself.

"Very sloppy sluts. Very sloppy indeed. Now while that may be something you will hear after you have been fucked by five men and your cunts are dripping with cum, in my class it is not a desirable state for a slut to be in. We will need to move on but we will definitely be working on your control in our next lesson. Once finished step back from the bar one step."

Madame De Witt waited for all eighteen girls to finish the current exercise before continuing to instruct the class. She watched the schoolgirls, dressed in their tight leotards, unimpressed with the current bunch. Murphy, the flame-haired Irish girl was the only one who showed any sign of dance experience. She could understand why Porter had watched her so closely. Not only was she exceptionally beautiful in a mystical, almost preternatural way, but she performed each exercise without hesitation.

"Arabesque. One half turn to the left, now lean into the bar, lifting up your left leg behind you. Both legs are to be kept perfectly straight, continue lifting until the leg is parallel with the floor. Watch in the mirror, legs straight. Back straight. Ten arabesque, left then ten right. When you switch, half turn to the right. Begin."

Sarah did her best, trying to keep everything straight. It seemed to be something that a slut had to always be aware of. Her knees began to shake just a little with the strain of keeping the position. Moving so slowly was what was making it so difficult. She tried hard not to moan as her legs ached, glad when the ten were finally completed and she could switch to her right, but it only meant that she would have to start it all over again with her other leg.

Sarah watched her leg slide up behind her. Watched the muscles tense and quiver as she struggled to maintain the posture expected. She saw how her bare ass moved as her leg elevated and how her pussy was exposed with each lift. Her leotard was soaked with sweat as she completed her final arabesque.

"Turn to the left and arabesque, left leg. Once your leg is elevated in line with the floor, hold it there and take a moment to enjoy the beauty of the position. The right angle formed by legs and body is a pleasing form. Lower. Arabesque, hold. Now elevate another foot. Body straight," snapped Madame De Witt, as every girl leaned forward to compensate for the higher elevation. "Your body stays upright at 45 degrees. Lower. Arabesque. Now hold that position for a count of five. Everything straight: legs, body, neck, arms. Good sluts. Soon we will have everyone performing at a much higher standard."

Sarah looked at her teacher in the mirror and saw her lean her body forward and extend her leg straight up behind her, the pointed toes reaching vertically for the ceiling. The schoolgirl's eyes widened in amazement. She had never seen anyone manipulate their body in that way and she was expected to be able to do that? Soon?

"Step one step back from the bar. Lift your right leg to the bar. Legs straight, lean your body down onto your raised leg. Slowly, all warm-up positions are to be performed slowly. Raise your body and lower it again, each time go a little lower. Look at the muscles strain and stretch. Note how pretty your pussies look as you stretch. Once every slut has mastered the basics of my class we can change you out of these beginner leotards into something more suitable."

Sarah brightened at the thought of being rewarded with a proper dancer's uniform when they had begun to improve and impress the teacher. She was doing her best and had managed to touch her forehead to her raised leg on that last stretch, which caused her to flush with accomplishment.

"Switch legs. Flexibility and control are important for a slut."

So many things were important for a slut, Sarah thought as she stretched her left leg. How could anyone be expected to remember all this and follow it? All the time!

"One last warm-up before we begin the class. Step into the bar. Raise your left leg and place the heel on the bar. Straight legs. Do you really have to be told this every time! You are beginning to try my patience. Once more and I will begin discipline. It is natural for sluts to take direction but some things you do not wait to be told.

"Move closer to the bar. Push those pussies up tight to the bar. Now lean your body along the leg, slide your hand along until you touch your feet. Raise your other arm, arcing it over your body. Gracefully, not like a broken chicken wing."

Sarah was as close to the bar as she could be but she could not push her pussy into it as directed. She tried but she was just a little too short. Was that going to be one of her weaknesses that could not be trained out? She didn't want to have anything she could not improve. She didn't want to disappoint people, even with something she could not control.

"Switch legs. I said pussies to the bar Hinka. Continue stretching," snapped Madame De Witt as she stalked to the end of the room. Eighteen pairs of eyes followed the graceful teacher as she seemed to glide along the wooden floors. At the very end of the room was a small table pushed well back into the corner. As the teacher returned the schoolgirls quickly resumed their eyes forward, focusing on their taut bodies.

Sarah dared a quick peek as Madame De Witt stepped towards the line of girls. She held a cane that was about two feet long. It was very different from Miss Watson's, being much shorter and it seemed more flexible, bowing slightly as the teacher moved. What made it seem more frightening to Sarah was its deep red colour, for some reason it made the instrument of discipline appear more wicked.

Sarah heard a faint swish followed by Hinka's squeal as the cane found its mark on the inner thigh of the young girl’s left leg. Sarah could just see the incident in the mirror. Hinka had managed to stay upright and keep her leg on the bar and immediately pushed her hips closer to the wooden pole, mashing her pussy against it.

"I will not repeat myself again. When I give you instruction you follow it. This is a very easy class for a slut. I do not make jokes and I mean every word that I say. When I give an order to a slut it is to be obeyed instantly and with vim and vigour. Repercussions will follow for any slut that fails in this so simple of tasks.

"Those little slut bodies should be warmed up so we can now begin with the class. First of all I need to gauge what I have to work with this semester. I have a feeling that this year Trinity house has been lumped with a rather pathetic crop. We should not worry too much though, you are all here because you are sluts. Someone with much more intelligence and experience than you has recognised your potential and decided that you should all be rewarded with the opportunity to fulfil your destiny. You are all very lucky. Becoming property is an extremely admirable lifestyle for a slut. An owned slut is a happy slut as they say.

“Ah but we are here to dance, I am sure your other teachers will have more eloquent discussions on the fortunate directions your lives have taken. Olsen step out. I want a front split. Once you have performed the position to the best of your abilities, move back in line and the next girl will continue.”

Madame De Witt stood in the middle of the room, holding her cane at both ends, flexing it absently. The sluts should all be ready, muscles warm and flexible. This was the test of their readiness for this class. The ability to perform a front split was a basic test of flexibility and control. Side split would come later. Very few girls could do a side split when they came to Harkwood, only the cheerleaders or gymnasts even came close. From their files none of these girls had those qualifications, though Murphy had done some Irish dance, which explained her sense of ease during the lesson. What had happened to girls these days? Even ten years ago at least half of the new Trinity classes had some dance or gymnastic training. Girls these days tended to be a lazy breed. It was what made Harkwood so important.

The willowy teacher watched haughtily as Olsen stepped in front of the class. She hated going first in all things. Why had she been put in the number one spot? She had to lead her classmates all over the school, she had to attempt every activity first. Her poor performance in deepthroating she put down to simply not knowing what was expected. At least she had been spared during biology. Porter seemed to relish the spotlight, she should really be the first girl. Olsen’s mind was spinning through thoughts as she settled herself for the task ahead. She tried her best to clear it and make sure this time she was not the worst in the class.

She stood hesitantly, trying to remember back to when she was a little girl and used to cartwheel around the house. She would often do the splits, though she was sure they were never really done correctly. She had to slide one leg forward and one leg backwards at the same time and try and get as low to the ground as possible. The anxious schoolgirl took a deep breath and began sliding her legs out underneath her. The high heels made the movement a little more difficult and she found herself having to turn her feet to the side, almost overbalancing as she did so. To correct herself, she dropped faster. Her legs slid quickly, spreading in front and behind.

Olsen was low to the ground now and she steadied herself with her hands. Her forward leg had managed to stay straight along the ground but her right leg which extended behind her had bent awkwardly keeping her pussy well off the polished wooden floor. She tried to gently move her body lower and managed to get her pussy an inch or two closer to the floor. Her thighs were burning and she simply could not stretch them any further. She had tried her best and now had to get up. She attempted to slide her legs together but her body would not cooperate. Olsen became anxious, desperate to get up but not wishing to make a fool of herself. The distressed schoolgirl quickly decided that looking foolish was a better alternative than angering her teacher.She leaned to her right and brought her legs together under her body, ending up resting on her hands and knees in a most unorthodox and unattractive position, before scrambling crudely to her feet. Her face coloured in shame. Once again going first had caused her to perform in a less than stellar manner.

“Pathetic,” Madame De Witt observed caustically as Olsen scurried back to her place in line.

Cox stepped out to fill the void and did her best version of a front split. Her movements were much smoother and she managed to move her body much lower than Olsen but still she moved in a way that could only be described as graceless and ugly. Sarah was watching in desperation as her friend stepped out swiftly and smoothly lowered herself into a perfect split. Her legs were both hugging the floor, contact made from hip to heel. She could see her friend’s leotard clad pussy almost touching the floor beneath her. Sarah now had to follow that! She would be made to look even worse than Olsen, at least she had the excuse of going first, if excuses were ever permissible for a slut. Sarah watched the milky-white teen like a hawk. She scrutinised every movement she made, needing as many tips on how to perform this position as she could get.

As Murphy moved back into line next to her, Sarah stepped in front of the class. She swept her arms out to her side as she had seen Murphy do and smoothly slid her legs apart. She performed a near perfect split as she lowered her body to the floor. As her legs continued to widen and her torso neared the boards her control came undone. Her already tired body and burning thighs could not take the strain as she attempted to contort herself into such an unfamiliar position. Sarah’s body was a good foot off the floor when her it refused to cooperate any longer. She willed her legs apart, trying to ignore the pain in her thighs. The poor girl gritted her teeth and tried to force her body down further but succeeded only in overbalancing. She came crashing down in a misshapen heap, limbs flailing crazily.

“Atrocious. I can honestly say I have never been more disgusted by a performance,” snapped Madame De Witt as she glared with contempt at the schoolgirl sprawled on the dance-floor.

Sarah’s eyes welled with tears. She slowly regained her feet and stepped glumly back into line. She had done her best, she honestly had. It was just that she had never really been athletic, never danced or tried out for cheerleading or done any real physical exercise at all to be completely honest and this damn leotard riding up her ass and squeezing her pussy wasn’t helping. Sarah instantly admonished herself. Her leotard had nothing to do with it. She was simply in terrible physical shape. She was sure to be the worst in the class. That should make Olsen feel better she thought. Where were her instincts now? They would do her no good in this class. Sarah knew now that she would have to push herself to the edge and then force herself well over it to keep up with the other girls in this class, gym too.

The miserable teenager forced herself to watch her remaining classmates perform the splits. She wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in a cupboard somewhere but she was forced to stand here, at attention and watch the other young girls of her house perform for their teacher. Sarah had never realised how demeaning a simple action could be. Even had they not been wearing a stiff metal collar around their necks or had they not been wearing skin-tight leotards that left almost nothing of their nubile young bodies to the imagination, simply being forced to perform for another person had made her feel humiliated. She was sure her classmates felt the same.

As Carew touched the polished floor with her leotard sheathed pussy Sarah’s spirits sank even further. A horrible empty feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as it was now clear that she had been the worst of the class. Not only the worst, but by a ridiculous margin. No other girl had fallen over and looked like someone having a fit. Every other girl had at least managed to come close to adopting the position. She tried not to dwell on it. She tried to think about the future and doing better, but failure was hard for her to accept. Knowing that she had not only done badly, disappointing her teacher, but that she was the worst, was something she had trouble moving past.

“Disappointing overall, a peak or two but nothing that could compensate for the hideousness of some attempts,” Madame De Witt said, more disappointed than angry. "Believe it or not each slut in this class will soon be completing this simple activity without the use of their hands. Yes girls, even Porter."

Sarah stared straight ahead, unwilling to make eye contact with her teacher. There was nothing she could do now but practice.

“Rhythm," Madame De Witt said abruptly. "A slut feels the rhythm of life as she moves. The pulse as her heart pumps blood around her body, the throb in her pussy as desire overtakes her senses, the bounce of her tits as she moves, the thrust of a cock as it enters her holes. All these things provide the slut an avenue for sensuality. Listen to the rhythms, let them flow through your body and it will respond, infusing your every movement with soft, sensual vivacity. You are all untrained sluts and as such will not have a very good ear for such rhythms. To assist you in the next section of the class, I will provide the rhythm for you.

“Each girl is to come out in front of the class and dance, for one minute. Feel the music, dance to its power. There is no choreography, let the music inform your actions. Porter, we will start with you. Dance until I call for the next slut.”

The colour drained from Sarah’s face. She didn’t know how to dance. She had no idea what to do. As Madame De Witt spoke, she had been thanking her lucky stars that she would have three girls to watch and hopefully help her with some moves. She stood frozen in line as the teacher removed a small, slim remote control from somewhere behind her. Sarah tried to move but she was like a deer in the headlights. Her mind refused to think, refused to accept the situation. But denial was not going to make the situation disappear.

Sarah felt the panic rise from her belly like an almost physical force. Could she just refuse and take the punishment? Would she dare? Over the past 24 hours she had been degraded and demeaned in ways she had never imagined possible but dancing in front of other people held a special brand of humiliation she did not think she could bear. Sarah knew however, that she could not refuse this command. She would fight it to the very end but she would obey. She knew that obedience was coming naturally to her but she could still not bring herself to abandon the fight for the inevitable.

As Sarah’s mind continued to spiral into ever-increasing desperation, Madame De Witt depressed a button on the remote and music began to play from the invisible speakers situated throughout the room. All the girls, including Sarah had expected some kind of classical ballet music. Instead a bouncy pop song reverberated around the room, the sweet voice singing in a language Sarah did not understand.

"Porter, move that cunt onto the dance-floor," Madame De Witt snapped.

Sarah stepped slowly out of line and took a stance facing her teacher. Her mind was nearly frozen with panic. She closed her eyes and tried to think of some moves she could do to the music. Her dismal attempts to come up with a routine were shattered as pain exploded across her already abused ass. Sarah's eyes snapped open to see the teachers red cane flicking once again towards her stinging buttocks. Agony flared across her firm teenage flesh. Even if her leotard had not been a very strict g-string Sarah doubted if the skin-tight material would have softened the blow.

The abused schoolgirl had no more time to think. She had to act, something she knew she should have done when she had been told to. Sarah began to sway her hips to the beat of the music. She tried as hard as she could to not think, to trust her instincts and feel the rhythm. The leotard-clad teenager swayed her body, moving her hips in tiny circles while moving her feet in tiny steps to the left and right. Her hands were hanging unnaturally at her side, she knew she had to move them.

In desperation, having no idea where they belonged, she bent her arms and bounced them to either side of her body as she moved. Sarah heard soft titters from her classmates as she danced. Even over the music she knew what was happening. The other girls were laughing at her. Sarah could not look at them. She knew she would break down if she saw the other girls giggling as she attempted to dance.

"They are right to laugh at you Porter. You are dancing like a stoned grandmother of 82. A grandma with two false legs I might add. You were not told to stop Porter. It is true that no one should be subjected to the kind of torture you are currently putting me through but a minute is a minute. And you sluts, you were told I did not want to hear a sound from you unless in answer to a question."

The soft sounds of teenage girls giggling quieted immediately. Sarah continued to move after her momentary lapse. She had thought the admonishment of her teacher had been the thankful call for her to end the humiliation. Tears had welled in her eyes as she danced, unable to think of how to better her performance. For now Sarah resigned herself to the fact that she was a lost cause. That thought only made her feel worse. She had never been the worst at any class before. Even at her old school there had been girls worse at gym.

"Porter, get off the floor. Olsen, please don't disgust me."

Sarah hurriedly shuffled back to her place in line, relieved that her short time in the spotlight was over. The thoroughly humiliated teen dutifully watched as Olsen danced for their teacher. Sarah did not want to watch, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball under a blanket and hide from the world. She knew better though. She knew she needed all the help she could get in this class and every second another girl danced was a second Sarah could use to prevent any further degradation at the hands of her lack of coordination.

Olsen was not a bad dancer, though Madame De Witt had no kind words for her performance. Cox was better, grinding her hips and incorporating some turns and even some booty shaking. Sarah had seen other girls do that and even attempted it herself once, needless to say that had been as disastrous as her recent minute of shame.

The music changed as it was Murphy's turn to dance. Sarah was captivated by her friend's performance. For one minute Sarah forgot her failure as she watched the Irish teen dance. Murphy moved her lithe white body to the beat, twisting and spinning sensually. Sarah was mesmerised as the dancing schoolgirl sashayed languidly across the floor, the small, tight leotard accentuating her lovely unblemished body.

She was almost sad when Murphy's minute ended and Clark was called to dance. Sarah watched her remaining classmates perform, the only girl to break through Sarah's daydream of reliving Murphy's dance was Mitchell. The large-titted teen had a raw style, lacking Murphy's natural sensuality and grace but Sarah was entranced. Thoughts of kissing Mitchell swam through her head as she watched her classmate’s udders bounce and Sarah began to feel the familiar flutter in her belly. All too soon Mitchell stepped back in line only to be replaced by the next girl. A few songs and eight girls later the teacher turned the music off and turned to the class.

"After that hideous beginning, the calibre did not improve very much. You are right to feel embarrassed and ashamed Porter. In my sixteen years of teaching sluts to dance, the atrocity that you inflicted on me was the most frightening thing I have seen in this room. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Yes Madame," replied the startled teen. At least she had remembered to only speak in yes or no answers. At least she could do something right she thought.

"Speak."

"I am very sorry Madame. I am sorry I disappointed you so much. I promise to practice and do better. Please forgive me Madame," blurted the apologetic teen.

"I realise this is your first day and that you have not yet learnt how to structure a proper apology but do you think you deserve anything for your horrid display?"

"Yes Madame."

"Tell me what you deserve Porter."

"I deserve to be punished Madame," Sarah replied resignedly.

She had known exactly what her teacher had meant and Sarah had to agree. She had upset her teacher in a way that seemed to go beyond simple disappointment. She did deserve to be punished for making someone feel bad like that. She did not want to be punished, she dreaded the pain she knew was to follow, but she knew that she had to redeem herself somehow. If her teacher felt the way to do this was through punishment then she simply had to agree. She surely could not redeem herself through dance but she vowed to herself that she would eventually, though this vow was something separate from the immediate punishment she knew was inevitable.

"Very well slut. Out in front of the class. Turn to face your classmates. They may be sluts but even their untrained sensibilities were sure to be offended by your near-spastic capering and they should benefit from your punishment.

"Step your legs out wide. Wider, much wider than your shoulders. Hands behind your head. Now lower your cunt to the floor until your thighs are parallel. Yes, move your feet as wide as they need to go to accommodate. This position is called square."

Sarah felt the warm hand of her teacher slide along her taut inner thigh. It started at her left thigh and slid along the taut expanse of skin, gently caressing the tense muscles. The warm palm bumped across her plump pussy captured within the confines of her tight leotard and continued along her right thigh.

"Drop position and we start again," Madame De Witt snapped in Sarah's ear.

Sarah's thighs burned as she struggled to hold the difficult position. She was not sure she could hold it once the cane struck her ass. The ache from her morning caning had stayed with her throughout the day. Over time the intense, agonising burn had dissipated, even the throbbing had become hardly noticeable with everything else that had happened to her, but the ache deep in her flesh had never left.

Sarah watched in confusion as her teacher squatted behind her, able to see every move her teacher made in the mirror. She watched her thigh muscles quiver as Madame De Witt held her cane at both ends and moved the flexible tip between her legs and the floor, holding it only six inches from the underside of her right thigh. Sarah was afraid of what was to come but puzzled as to how her teacher could swing the cane with any force from that position.

Madame De Witt provided her with the answer as she pulled the tip of the cane towards the floor, the red plastic rod flexing under the force. Sarah watched anxiously, waiting for the pain, steeling herself against the unknown.

The teacher let go of the cane tip without warning. The plastic rod swing into the flesh of the tensed schoolgirl’s thigh with an audible crack. Sarah grunted as the pain exploded throughout her sensitive flesh. Almost instantly the agony radiated up her body; through her belly and into her chest. Her body had jumped slightly but she had managed to hold her position. As the pain intensified, shifting from the initial sting to a deeper, fuller burning, she held on to the accomplishment of remaining in position. She needed to accentuate her strengths and work on her weaknesses.

The tormented teen watched as the cane was again bowed away from her body. Again pain exploded in her thigh and again Sarah kept position. She had only barely managed to stop her hands from flying to her thigh in a feeble attempt to protect her tender flesh. Her whole body was now straining. The burning of her tense muscles was as nothing to the intensity of agony from the cane. She could not have believed that such a small movement could produce such a piercing pain.

Sarah watched the teacher move the cane to her right thigh. Twice more she held position as her right thigh received two identical red welts. Sarah's teeth were clenched tightly, her jaw muscles painfully tense as she blew out each breath in a ragged gasp. The tortured schoolgirl watched in horror as Madame De Witt moved the cane directly beneath her pussy. Sarah began to shake her head in tiny involuntary movements.

Her pussy was held in a tight, plump mound by her leotard. The seams of the narrow crotch of the garment sat to either side of her pussylips, efficiently capturing and pushing together the tender flesh of her labia. Sarah could not imagine the cane striking her there. She had barely managed to keep her composure as the hellish instrument impacted the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

As Sarah was indulging her fear Madame De Witt let fly the cane. Sarah's hands flew to her pussy as she collapsed in a writhing heap on the floor, her scream reverberating around the hall. The cane had struck her at a slight angle, ensuring the hard plastic caught the meat of both cuntlips.

"Porter you have three seconds to resume position or we will have to begin again. This will be the one and only allowance I am willing to make with you sluts, so Porter you had better count your lucky stars that you are the recipient. Lack of training will no longer be an excuse for loss of control."

As her teacher spoke Sarah managed to force her body to respond. She pulled herself to her feet and slowly lowered herself back into the square position. She felt like her whole body was on fire, though the seat of the furnace rested in her pussy. It had felt like someone had slashed her with a knife. How was anyone ever meant to stay in position after that? Her thighs continued to burn from the strain of the position and the sharper, more intense pain of the cane strokes, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Sarah would not have thought she had any tears left but her body continued to amaze her.

"Porter here is unfortunate due to her lack of talent. But dancing is not like football, even those without talent can become great dancers. All it takes is a great teacher, discipline and a slut willing to learn. I think your situation can count all three of those don't you Porter?"

"Yes Madame.”

"Even factoring in a complete absence of talent your performance was still a travesty. The only explanation is that you demonstrated a lack of respect for not only myself, but for the hallowed halls of Harkwood and for the institution of dance itself. For that you have earnt an infraction. I am a very fair teacher Porter. My job is to instruct you in how to dance. It is the role of your other teachers to ensure your general discipline is satisfactory. You believe that you deserve that infraction on top of your punishment do you not Porter?"

"Yes Madame," Sarah responded obediently. Even if she had not actually agreed she would not have dared to disagree publicly.

"Murphy do you believe that Porter deserves two infractions due to the level of disrespect she demonstrated?" Madame De Witt inquired of the startled Irish teen.

"Yes Madame," Murphy replied, taken aback by the unexpected attention.

"Such conviction Murphy, thank you," said Madame De Witt sincerely.

"Porter do you believe that you deserve two infractions due to the severity of your disrespect?"

"Yes Madame," Sarah replied dejectedly.

"Excellent Porter I only want what is best for you and I am glad that we both believe that you would benefit from extra correction. Step back in line."

Sarah raised her body tenderly. The uncomfortable position had placed a severe strain on her body and her legs quivered when she returned to attention once she had rejoined her classmates along the bar.

"We can now move on to the lesson proper. A slut will dance whenever she is ordered. More often than not she will not be expecting to dance so knowing her body and feeling the rhythm are more important than choreography. However, even in these improvised performances the benefits of knowing some expressive choreography is a boon to the slut.

"There will however also be times when a slut knows a performance is imminent and she is given time to prepare. When a slut has this luxury she must prepare a routine. At the end of this year, as part of the yuletide celebrations Trinity house will be hosting a recital. Each student will perform a dance of their own choreography. Throughout my lessons you will all learn not only the choreography of others but you will also learn to create routines of your own and develop the ability to dance on command no matter the circumstance.

"So first of all we will begin with some very simple steps. We will end the lesson with some slightly harder choreography. Follow every movement I make. I will complete the routine once then you will join me for the following sets. I will start slowly so Porter can follow what we are doing and then we will do it at half speed, then at full speed."

Madame De Witt then proceeded to step and gyrate her body slowly through fourteen distinct movements. Sarah did her best to follow. She had been upset by her teachers comment but as she watched and struggled to follow the steps she felt Madame De Witt was justified in her demeaning comments. Sarah knew she would have to work phenomenally hard in this class.

When it was her turn to join her teacher in the choreography she did her best and actually managed to keep up until the ninth step which was a complex lowering of her body horizontally, followed by an undulation of her upper body which morphed into a gyration of the hips followed by a twist of her entire body as her arms slid up her torso, brushing the outside of her breasts.

Sarah became lost by the undulation of her body but managed to gather herself a few moves later. The next time through it was at a faster speed and Sarah managed to complete the choreography in time with the other girls, though her movements were ill-disciplined and sloppy. She knew her performance could not be deemed pleasing but she was glad that at least she had managed to keep up. Small victories she told herself, small victories. On the next set Madame De Witt moved at a normal speed. By this time Sarah knew the routine, knew the sequence of movements and was able to keep up though her technique was even sloppier this time through.

"Twice more sluts," Madame De Witt called as she stalked along in front of the schoolgirls watching and critiquing their movements. She watched the class as they practiced the routine a further four times. At the end of the fourth she stopped in front of Sarah and gave her attention exclusively to the struggling teen.

Sarah kept dancing. She was doing her best to not only complete the steps correctly and in time but also to infuse her movements with as much sensuality as she could. The revealing leotard helped her somewhat but the degrading situation was making it almost impossible for her to see herself as sexy.

As Madame De Witt stood in front of Sarah and watched her dance, she began to become increasingly anxious. She was trying her hardest but was there some fundamental flaw in her performance, apart from her lack of finesse. She focused herself more and more intently on each step she was performing, reassuring herself that she was doing each movement correctly. The continued silent scrutiny of Madame De Witt came close to tipping Sarah over the edge. She was second guessing everything she did, every thought she had. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she continued to perform the choreography she had been taught.

"Once more sluts and then stop and watch the additions to the routine," said Madame De Witt as she shifted her attention once again back to the class in general.

Sarah almost collapsed in relief when her teacher’s gaze left her body. She must have been doing the right thing, otherwise she would surely have been corrected. She finished the final set and stood at attention, her chest heaving, sucking the air into her lungs with violent gasps. Her leotard was so tight that as she breathed in her tits pushed tightly against the garment which caused the sheer material cupping her pussy to pull even tighter. It was only now, standing still, that she was aware of the constant movement of her leotard against her smooth pussylips.

Without a word Madame De Witt began to dance the familiar routine, once again in slow motion. Sarah marvelled at the way her teacher moved. Her lithe body twisting with an almost feline grace. Once she had finished the familiar steps the dance teacher began a more complex series of contortions.

This time Sarah definitely struggled to follow the movements of her teacher. Her entire body was slowly and sensually gyrating. The steps by themselves looked easy but it was the fact that each step was actually a movement of leg, body, arms and head. Each step was four movements in one and Sarah could not take it all in at once, even with Madame De Witt's slowed speed.

Soon it was time for Sarah to join her teacher at the slowed speed. She did well with the familiar parts of the routine but stumbled on the very first part of the extended choreography. She caught herself on the next move but was once again lost on the remaining four.

Sarah was beginning to feel a little depressed. As her teacher sped up to a half speed routine she knew she was well out of her depth. All feelings of satisfaction she had from successfully remembering the earlier routine were dashed as her complete failure to grasp the more complex dance became increasingly apparent. At full speed Sarah felt like she should just stand still and give up but she could not bring herself to do it. She was not a quitter, she had never backed down from any challenge in her schoolwork before and she most definitely did not want to disappoint Madame De Witt again. She did not want her thinking she was being disrespectful.

"Continue," commanded Madame De Witt as she again scrutinised the class.

Sarah tried desperately to enact the routine as she had been taught. She was now just trying to remember the moves and perform them slowly to simply complete the complex steps. She knew she was slow. She knew she looked terrible. She knew she was the worst in the class but she kept trying. Madame De Witt took one look at Sarah's attempts and closed her eyes in despair.

"Porter step out of line. Turn around and study Murphy. You are very lucky she is your study partner. You simply stand here and watch her dance. Continue dancing sluts. While I called the latter half of the routine complex, this simple set is one of the easiest you will learn. It is, after all, why you are learning it first."

Madame De Witt walked down the line of dancing schoolgirls with a critical eye. She made minor corrections to each girl’s performance while Sarah stood at attention in front of Murphy and watched the beautiful Irish teen dance. Murphy didn't move as gracefully or as sinuously as the teacher but she was very close and the young girl watched as she performed the routine flawlessly. She had felt the familiar flush of heat in her cheeks at the humiliation of being singled out, removed from the class activity and simply ordered to stand still, as if she was part of a passive audience instead of an active member of the activity. Her failure was complete, her fragile self-esteem squashed by the crushing weight of her inability to follow such simple commands.

Sarah's gaze took in every part of Murphy's body, every movement the milky-skinned teen made. Murphy was watching Sarah as she danced, an odd smile creping onto her friends face throughout the routine. Sarah was sure it was not for her, it was just that Murphy was enjoying the dance. Sarah was buoyed by her friend’s happiness. She had felt a distance from her ever since lunch. She was dying to get Murphy alone so they could talk but for now, Sarah smiled with her friend and watched her lose herself in the freedom of the dance. As the class danced and Sarah watched, the bell rang. Not one girl missed a single movement. Seventeen schoolgirls continued to write and sweat without interruption, they knew better than to stop of their own accord.

"Cease at the end of the set," directed Madame De Witt.

In moments the class became still again, as all eighteen girls stood at attention awaiting further instructions. Sarah kept her place facing Murphy, holding position obediently until told otherwise.

"Porter back in line. Our next lesson will be on Wednesday. This gives each slut a chance to perfect today's routine. I understand you have to make up some time that you wasted today. You may get dressed and move directly to your form class."

The class moved forward together, almost as if it was a race to the clothes hooks. As soon as Sarah was at the wall she slipped her hands beneath the shoulder straps of her leotard and pulled them to the side, putting even more pressure on her pussy. She slipped the sheer garment down her body in one swift movement, her tits popping free from their tight confinement. She peeled the material away from her pussy and noticed a very small stain on the crotch. Her pussy was still producing juice though from this evidence it had all but stopped. Or maybe it was simply the fact that her pussylips had been so tightly clamped together that none could escape. Before Sarah had a chance to reach for her uniform she was interrupted.

"Porter?"

"Yes Madame," Sarah replied with trepidation.

"Come here," commanded Madame De Witt.

Sarah hung her leotard on her hook and stepped back towards her dance teacher. She was naked but for her shoes and socks. The leotard may have provided a very meagre, and at times dubious, covering for her body but like any piece of clothing at Harkwood it had made her feel protected and just a little safer while she had been wearing it. Once again her body was exposed and she felt completely without protection. Her classmates were at this very moment in the process of dressing in their uniforms and Sarah felt increasingly vulnerable with each step that took her further from the group. It was this embarrassed, even fearful, reaction to being naked that allowed Sarah to keep questioning whether her teachers were correct about her being a natural slut. She soon stood before her dance teacher and adopted the perfect attention posture.

"Porter I was not exaggerating when I said that your performance was the worst I have seen in all my years of teaching. I want you to be clear on this. You have a great deal of work to do but I am confident that you will be able to accomplish any task that I set." Madame De Witt caressed Sarah's left breast with her hand, startling the young girl with the unexpected, casual, touch but she held her position, her only visible reaction a widening of her eyes.

"You are a very pretty little thing and your arousal is charming. You came into my class with hard nipples and I am glad that you are leaving it the same way. Your pussy is wet also?"

"Yes Madame," Sarah replied meekly.

"Yes well, being a pretty little slut is not enough and especially not in my class. I expect to see a great improvement from you. Do you remember the ways in which you demonstrated your disrespect during my class?"

"Yes Madame."

"Tell me."

"Through my pathetic performance I showed disrespect for you Madame, for Harkwood school and for the institute of dance."

"Yes Porter you gave me much to think about during this class. I believe that I may not have been entirely fair with you. How many infractions did you earn?"

"Two Madame," Sarah replied, fear causing her voice to catch.

"Tell me Porter, was I truly fair with you?"

Sarah hesitated before answering. She felt she knew the answer that was expected, an answer that would bring her more pain and humiliation but she needed to be sure because the wrong answer could potentially cause her even more suffering. She decided to trust her instincts as she had been taught.

"No Madame."

"How so Porter."

"I showed disrespect in three different ways but I only earned two infractions Madame. I think I should have earned three infractions. I deserve an infraction for each type of disrespect."

"I believe so too Porter. I am glad that you agree. A slut must never shirk punishment. She must always be aware of her actions and if she feels punishment is deserved she must bring it to the attention of her superiors. This time you were lucky Porter. I have a suspicion that you would not have brought this lapse to my attention but I shall put this down to your lack of training.

"A slut must always ensure her behaviour is corrected when it is lacking. I hope you remember that, as failing to report an infraction is a serious matter, one that in itself can earn the slut a detention. When you graduate from Harkwood it becomes even more important because your owner will most likely not have the staff available to keep an eye on your behaviour. Do you understand the importance of this Porter?"

"Yes Madame," Sarah replied truthfully. It was her duty to bring to light any wrongdoing or shortcomings on her part even if she knew no one else had noticed. She knew this would be a difficult thing to do because she would have to be constantly aware of everything she did. Sarah immediately critiqued her position but found herself to be standing perfectly at attention.

"Dismissed Porter. I will be watching your progress. I have high hopes for you, and let's face it, after today the only way is up."

Sarah curtsied daintily to her teacher, her lack of clothes making her feel comical, though no less conscientious for that. She hurried over to her uniform and began to dress. Her classmates had left and Sarah was worried about what to do next. Once she was dressed what should she do? She hurriedly donned her uniform, cringing as her damp panties once again cupped her pussy in their moist embrace. She would be very glad to put on a new pair of panties tomorrow. She had never had this problem before. The crotch of her panties had always absorbed what little moisture she produced and to have this constant reminder of the changes in her body made her feel uncomfortable and off balance. The petite teen was soon dressed and ready to leave the class. She scanned her eartag, screwing her nose up in distaste as the scanner beeped, registering her presence. She didn't think she would ever get use to the demeaning barcode she was forced to wear.

Sarah turned back to her teacher before leaving the classroom. Madame De Witt was not looking at her, rather she was watching herself in the mirror as she performed a particularly sensual dance. Sarah curtsied to her teacher, she felt it was only right. Madame De Witt deserved the extra display of respect after Sarah had disappointed her so badly, whether she was aware of it or not. For someone who loved dancing so much her pathetic performance must indeed have been as offensive as her teacher had said.

Sarah left Madame De Witt's classroom demurely. Dance was her last class of the day and she had much to think about. First though she had to rejoin her classmates. She hurried towards Miss Watson's room where the other Trinity students waited to make up the time they had wasted throughout the day. She moved as fast as she dared. She was not sure if she was allowed to run in the corridors so she decided she should not. She walked with fast, mincing steps that was almost running but did not look as ungraceful. Her tits still bounced with each step, her hard nipples rubbing maddeningly against the stiff white blouse, her small blue skirt swishing wildly as she sped to Miss Watson's class.

She reflected on what Madame De Witt had said. She would have to watch herself more carefully from now on. She would have to first make sure she knew all the rules. The Trinity house manual was not a slim book and she had only had a chance to see a few pages of positions so far. Was she also supposed to report infractions from other girls? Would this be seen as a good thing for a slut to do or would it be bad, should she only be focused on what she was doing? She would definitely not win herself any friends if she started reporting on the other girls.

Sarah made her way down one flight of stairs and saw her classmates lined up halfway along the corridor. She scurried to catch up and quickly inserted herself in her proper place behind Murphy. The other girls of her line had left a space for her and Sarah was thankful she had not caused any further trouble by being late. She stood at attention and tried to clear her mind of the whirling thoughts that spun inside her head.