Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: SmilingWithSin
Title: SmilingFantasies - HWA: Isabelle's Story Part 3
Part: Chapter 3
Universe: Trials at Harlwood Academy
Summary: Isabelle is a pretty fourteen year old, attending to the
prestigious Harlwood
Academy.  However, Harlwood holds a dark secret.  Can she escape from a

school populated by geniuses?  Keywords: m/f, ped, sad, spank, hum

   Trials at Harlwood Academy - Isabelle's Story

   DISCLAIMER: This is a work of FICTION.  All characters in this story
were created by
the author and are not intended to represent real people.  Any

resemblance to real people or events is an unintentional coincidence.  The
author of this story does not support the actions that take place in this
story.  Abuse, humiliation, rape, torture, and molestation of a minor (or
anyone for that matter) are wrong.  This story is a FANTASY and it is not
intended to be taken out of context.  It was created for the sole purpose
of the indulgence of intellectual and sexual fantasies without causing harm
to anyone or anything.

   Please send comments and suggestions to SmilingWithSin@gmail.com.  If
you are writing a review of this story, please contact me, cause I'd like
to read it.  Unconstructive criticism will simply be deleted.  I don't
bother with garbage mail.  If you want to write hate mail, at least make it
entertaining.

   Chapter 3 - A Long Time Coming

   Isabelle didn't even know where she was being taken.  Somewhere, in the
back of her mind she actually cared.  But for now, she was completely numb.
Her feet dragged along the floor, noticing a cold dampness between her legs
she wondered, What was it?  It took her a second to remember that she had
been raped by her idol, Peter Strambord.  And the coldness between her legs
was likely his cum, dripping from her no longer innocent nether parts.  The
entire event came flooding back to her then.  It had been so surreal.  The
pain, and the struggle with Peter was a blur in her head.  Somehow, a
letter opener found its way into her hand and she had stabbed him in the
chest.  And then a misplaced kick had send him careening out of the window.
She had killed him.

   That was when they came for her.  Three boys burst into the room after
the crash.  She didn't know how long it had been before they came.  They
grabbed Isabelle, and dragged her from the room.  And here she was, being
forced down the hallway.  She glanced up, all of those doors that she had
passed just five hours before.  When she had been so full of hope of
escaping from this nightmare.  But she was still here.  At the end of the
hallway she saw something.  It was bright, and she couldn't make it out at
first.  As they drew nearer to it she read the words, "Professor Jacob
Talon, Dean of Students." She let out a long, agonized groan.  Everyone
that she had met so far had been under the seemingly endless influence of
Matthus Shawn.  There was no reason to think that this Dean would be any
other way.  Thinking about the sadistic Harlwood golden boy brought a wave
of nausea to her stomach.  She fought off the sickness, just as they moved
through the entryway.

   The three boys dropped her rather roughly onto the carpeted floor of the
Dean's office.  She simply lay there for a moment, as the boys stepped from
the room.  The door was shut behind them.  It was several minutes before
she looked up, and gauged her surroundings.  For now, thoughts of escape
weren't very near in her mind.  However, that changed when she saw the
gleaming outline of the Dean's telephone.  She gasped, and slowly rose to
her feet.  Tossing a glance from side to side, she inched her way towards
the phone.  Ever so slowly she crept forward, not wanting to be caught when
she was so close.  Just as her hand brushed against the receiver, she felt
fingers close over her wrist.  Looking up suddenly, Isabelle gasped.  She
was looking into the eyes of the very person she did not want to see right
now.  Those deep blue eyes were calm, and seemed to be mocking her, even
though not a word was uttered from his lips.

   Matthus chuckled then, and settled back into the high backed chair he
had been sitting in, turned away from the door and from Isabelle when she
had entered.  "God, you get the most priceless looks on your face when
you're surprised." His grin was unbearable, and she slapped him.  She
didn't know why, but the sudden hatred of him she had right then emboldened
her.  A little smirk touched her lips, as she watched him recoil slightly
from the blow.  The soft red glow of her handprint marked the spot where
she struck him nicely.

   The response came slowly, but Isabelle was no more prepared for it than
if it had come immediately.  Matthus rose from his seat, circling around
the desk.  Fingers trailed along the desk as he moved to her.  Once he
stood right beside her, his hand came up sharply, knuckles striking her
sharply across the face.  The blow was strong, and she reeled back from it.
His other hand savagely grabbed her hair, twisting her crimson locks
between his digits.  She suddenly found herself pressed face down on a
desktop for the third time that day, a fact that wasn't lost upon her. 
Hissing into her ear, Matthus spoke sharply, "If you ever lay a hand on me
again, I'll hang you out of the third story window you threw Peter out of,
by your hair.  Felt good though, didn't it?  To actually get a little bit
of revenge on someone who hurt you?" His lips twisted into a wicked sneer,
and he leaned even closer to her.  His tongue snaked out, dragging over her
cheek for a moment, before he whispered again.  "Well, it's up to me to
clean up the mess that you made, slut.  And don't worry, my price is
reasonable."

   Isabelle shuddered when she felt his tongue against her face.  And she
began to squirm when Matthus mentioned a price.  Trouble really wanted to
find her here, and it seemed to be doing an excellent job.  She didn't
think that she'd be able to stay below his radar like Sarah and Hailey
seemed to do, especially after everything that had happened.  A little
whimper escaped her throat at the prospect of becoming some sort of sex
slave for Matthus and the other boys.  She had no idea what was in store
for her, and it scared the hell out of her.

   When Matthus finally released her, she stood up slowly.  Backing away
just slightly from the desk, she stood still.  She didn't want to upset him
further right now.  "You know, this mess isn't going to be easy to clean
up. But I think you're activities today have made things a little easier. I
should thank you, really.  You've taken care of two problems that I've been
having.  Well...three actually." Settling back into the chair, he leaned
back slowly.  A wicked grin touched his lips, as he looked her over for a
moment.

   "What are you going to do?" She asked softly.  "And where's the Dean? 
Isn't this room locked to students?" That last question immediately made
her feel stupid when she realized whom she was talking to.  Of course he'd
have access, she thought.

   "Heh, that's funny.  The Dean.  You didn't think I'd let such a useful
position go to just anyone, would you?  You see...I'm the Dean." Matthus
chuckled at that, "Well, unofficially anyway." Isabelle gasped suddenly,
surprised, though not as much as she might have been two days ago.  But any
hope she had fell away at that realization.  He was in charge here.  There
was no one who could help her.  She was alone if she wanted to escape from
here.  "You see...the previous Dean, Professor Talon, actually started this
whole project, though on a much smaller scale.  He decided to have some fun
with some of the female students.  Even thought that he'd take some
pictures.  As soon as I found out about it, well...let's just say it got
the whole ball rolling.  One thing led to another, and here I am.  Dean of
Students." His grin was that same unbearable smirk as before.  But Isabelle
didn't hit him this time.

   "Why?!  Why are you doing this?!  You're obviously talented.  You don't
need to hurt people to succeed.  You can do whatever the hell you want to
with your life!  Why do you have to ruin so many others?" Tears dripped
from the corners of her eyes, and she placed her hands flat on the
tabletop. "Just tell me why!"

   "Inquisitive...though I do find it funny that you're the first to ask me
that.  All right, I'll indulge you a little.  You might think I was abused,
or neglected in some way, but the truth is actually more surprising.  My
father never beat me and my mother never molested me.  Sure, my father had
a pretty deviant sex life, but I didn't find out about that until I started
blackmailing him." Matthus leaned forward then, now less than a foot away
from Isabelle's face.  "The reality is simple.  I hate being told what to
do.  And I hate being considered on the same level as you stupid little
sluts.  Guys are easy, you just do better than them at everything and they
either hate you, or respect you.  But women!  They try to beat you at
everything.  And when they get praise, everyone just pours it on!  No one
poured on the praise for me when I excelled at everything in school.  They
just started to expect more of me!  By the time I was nine, and my father
still thought I needed a baby-sitter, I decided to take things into my own
hands.  It turns out that girl wasn't much up to the challenge of handling
me.  I tied her up, sodomized her with various objects I found lying
around, took plenty of pictures, and had them posted up around her school.
It was just a bit of fun, but I proved my point.  Shortly after that I took
advantage of my father's indiscretions to fund the programs here.  And once
I was enrolled I started to work changing things for the better." Matthus
settled back into his chair, looking quite pleased with himself.  Isabelle
was in shock.  She knew he was a monster, but his explanation of why was
unbelievable.  He's always been this way!

   "That brings us back to our current situation.  You see, there is the
Joey situation, the problem with Professor Dawbs, and Mr.  Strambord's body
to worry about.  Now, I could bring the police in, and let them sort things
out.  But of course I'm not that stupid.  I've put too much work into this
just to amuse myself watching you go through the horror of the media.  Of
course, there is a simpler way.  Professor Dawbs!  Get in here!" He shouted
suddenly, to no one in particular.  A moment later the door opened, and in
stepped the Professor, looking white as a sheet.  "Yes, Matthus?  What I
can do for you?" He stood there for a moment, glancing between Isabelle and
Matthus.  His face simply grew darker as he pieced together a bit of what
must have transpired.  "Yes, about that Professor.  I just have a little
task for you, and you'll be free to go.  You see, I've got a little problem
with Joey.  It seems he's gone berserk and I need you to do something for
me." Matthus was looking straight at the Professor as he spoke, and a
disturbing little smirk flashed across his features.  "What is it?  I'm
sure I can help." The Professor tried his best to hide his discomfort, but
it was betrayed in the trembling of his fingers.  "Nothing much really."
Matthus's hand swung up from beneath the desk.  Brandishing and old
revolver, he fired twice.  "Just die." The bullets struck the Professor
squarely in the chest.  The gunshots were immediately followed by
Isabelle's highpitched scream, as she fell backwards onto the floor. 
Professor Dawbs clutched his chest for a moment, tumbling back against the
wall.  As he slid down to the floor, his eyes slowly rolled back into his
head.  Matthus rose from his seat and walked around the desk to examine his
handy work.  "Well...at least the old fart managed to do that right."
Setting the gun on the desktop, he glanced over to Isabelle.  "Get up,
you're not finished yet." Isabelle couldn't move.  For the second time
today she had watched someone die right in front of her!  It was much more
than a poor girl can take.  She began to shout then, "Why did you do that?!
I mean...why, God why is this happening?!  How can any of this be
happening?!  Just die you monster!  Just leave us alone and go die..."
Reduced to a heavy sobbing, she buried her head in her knees.  "Get a-hold
of yourself, slut.  There isn't a damn thing he was good for.  He was only
useful to me when he kept his big mouth shut and kept having his fun with
those little boys he loved so much.  Heh, worthless." Matthus spit on him
then, before he took a step towards Isabelle.  Bending down, he yanked her
to her feet.  "The police are going to be here soon, so we'll just have to
get you into somewhere more confined.  We don't want you causing any
problems, do we?" "Police?  What do you mean?" Isabelle was more confused
than ever.  Hadn't he just finished telling her that he wasn't going to
call the police?  "It's simple, so simple even you can understand it.  You
kill Mr.  Strambord, I kill Dawbs, and little Joey takes the fall for it.
The students learn just how in control I am, and those three thorns in my
side are taken care of for good." Matthus smirked to her "You see!  I am a
genius." "You aren't going to get away with this!" Isabelle retorted. 
"Heh, don't worry.  I've got a lot of powerful people who can take care of
these minor details.  I just have to supply the patsies and things tend to
work out on their own.  There won't even be a story in the paper about it.
Joey's family will be notified and the school will give them a nice fat
severance to keep quiet.  Joey won't tell a soul because he knows I'll go
after his friends and his family if he does.  I told you before, I am the
one in control." With that, Matthus dragged Isabelle off.  They made their
way to the cellar, where Matthus locked her into a small, windowless room.
It seemed more like a dungeon than a storage basement.  She found a
comfortable place to sit, at least as comfortable as she could on a cold
stone floor.  Then, the floodgates opened and she burst into inconsolable
crying.  In her frustration, she yanked off her panties and tried her best
to clean herself up with them, before tossing them aside.  And then she
resigned herself to sobbing into her knees.  For now, there was nothing
that she could do.  And more than anything, Isabelle just wanted to sleep.
One last peaceful sleep before the real horrors of her ordeal began.  God
was kind enough to grant her that.

   There was no way to keep track of time in the small room.  It was black
as pitch, and she had forgotten her watch.  A soft sigh left her lips, as
she rubbed away the sleep from her eyes.  Drifting her emerald gaze to the
thin sliver of light beneath the door, the sudden sound of footsteps filled
her with dread.  She scooted further against the wall, in an attempt to
make herself seem as small as possible.  A sudden aching began between her
thighs.  Her entire pelvis hurt, she could only surmise it was from being
raped.  The footfalls stopped right in front of her cell, bringing her
attention back to them.  The tumbling of the lock acknowledged her fears.
They were definitely coming for her.  The door swung open in a wide arc,
striking the wall with a loud bang.  Standing in the doorway was Matthus.
"Get up!  It's all finished.  I've decided to institute some changes around
here.  I realized that I haven't been treating you girls the right way at
all." Isabelle was skeptical, but she didn't force his hand at all.  Slowly
rising to her feet, she stood next to the wall.  "I've been much too nice
to you.  You girls aren't learning your place; you're just laying low until
you can squeeze out of this school.  The only girls who are getting a
proper education are the few that I've taken directly under my wing. 
Thanks for inspiring me Isabelle.  And also I'd like to thank your little
friends for letting me know about what you planned to do."

   Isabelle gasped.  How could they betray me like that?  She thought. 
Even after they told me it was only between us.  Matthus obviously saw the
look of hurt upon her face.  "They didn't even flinch at telling me.  I
suppose that those bonds of friendship you girls seem to hold so dear
aren't worth much at all, hrm?  Well, maybe the bonds of slavery will hold
up much better." His laughter echoed heavily in the tiny room, and each
bellow made Isabelle cringe.

   "Just shut the hell up, you monster," Isabelle hissed the words out,
leaning back against the wall.  "Just shut up..."

   Matthus wasn't amused, as he stepped towards her.  "Well...now that
Peter is out of the way, I don't have any obligation to keep you untouched.
Frankly, Isabelle, I can't stand you.  But, you've got some spirit.  So
I've decided that I'm going to train you personally."

   "Train?  What do you mean?" she looked at him skeptically.  Isabelle was
never sure what Matthus was thinking.  And her fear of him made it so she
could never take what he said at face value.

   "It's a surprise.  If I laid out my training regimen, you'd just try to
prepare yourself for it.  Which makes it all so much harder." Isabelle felt
his hand curl around her wrist then, flinching from it.  His other hand
slipped forward and brushed along her thigh.  Closing tightly, her legs
barred him passage to her delicate regions.  Squirming beneath his touch,
Isabelle bit her lower lip.  Strangely, she didn't tell him to stop, at
least not at first.  However, those strong hands were able to slip between
her thighs, gliding up the length to her soft pussy.  Firm digits stroked
along the length of her slit for a moment, bringing a pained wince from her
features.

   At last Isabelle tried to push his hand away from her, "Stop...please."
Tears touched at the corner of her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks.
A whimper left her throat, she was still emotionally exhausted from the
day, too much to protest this mild invasion of her body.  However, Matthus
obliged, pulling his hand free from between her legs.

   There was little resistance from her as Matthus dragged her from the
room.  With quick, long strides, she had trouble keeping up with him. 
Stumbling once, she fought to regain her balance.  Careening forward, she
landed hard on her side.  Matthus barely even stopped to pull her to her
feet.  Rather Isabelle was forced to steady herself mid-stride to keep pace
with her captor.  She barely had time to get her bearings, when she heard
over the announcement speaker, a booming, crackling voice, "All students,
please report to the dining hall." It was a female voice, one that Isabelle
hadn't heard before.  It hinted at a German accent.  The puzzle was
forgotten, as Matthus dragged Isabelle into the main hall.  Students were
gathering there now, before moving to filter into the dining room.  Many of
them were looking quizzically at Matthus as he hurried past with the
captive Isabelle in toe.  He didn't say a word, but rather moved forward to
stand at the head of the table like he had done the night before.  Only
this time Isabelle was held tightly by her wrist, Matthus's unwilling
escort.

   More and more students pushed into the dining hall.  About this time a
tall blonde woman came to stand beside Matthus.  Isabelle hadn't seen her
before, but she assumed that it was the woman who had spoken over the
loudspeaker.  Matthus turned to her, speaking softly, "Everything is in
place, Helga?"

   "Yes, everything is ready for your plan, Master." Her voice was
submissive, which for some reason seemed strange to Isabelle, tinted as it
was with a German accent.  "The others are aware of your plans, and they
are prepared to help out anyway they can.  The collars have arrived as
well, Master.  Along with the other equipment that you ordered."

   "Excellent!  Things are going just perfectly.  I do want to thank you
for your help, Isabelle.  I don't think that I could have moved ahead so
quickly without it." He laughed softly, and Isabelle struggled for a
moment. A stricken look fell over her face, her wrist uselessly attempting
to tug free of his grip.

   "What do you mean?  I didn't do anything!" A sudden gasp of realization
left her throat.  "Oh God!  You mean Peter?  You mean he really was trying
to stop you?!"

   Matthus shook his head from side to side, "No...he wasn't trying to stop
me.  But he liked the arrangement that we had.  He got to indulge himself
with the girls, and then he'd go off on his merry way.  But he still felt
some sort of guilt for what I wanted to do.  Dawbs too.  But now that they
are out of the way, and that Joey, who has been testing my nerves for way
to long, took the fall.  I can move forward now."

   "What are you going to do?"

   A wicked grin touched his lips, as he leaned towards her, "I told you
before.  I'm going to put all of you little cunts in your place.  I imagine
I'll have to train about eighteen of you intensively.  Lisa and her little
friends are already pretty well conditioned...though I dare say they could
use a bit of a refresher course.  Ah well, all in due time.  For now, I
think its time to move past these kiddy games and start taking a firm
hand." Matthus laughed heartily at that.  Isabelle was still thoroughly
confused, but she didn't say anymore on the matter.  More than likely she
wouldn't be able to get any more information out of him anyway.  Glancing
up, she noticed that four of the girls that had been up front the night
before had been dragged struggling into the room.  The boys holding them,
rather hastily tied them down to their chairs by their arms, before taking
their own seats.

   The students were at last settling into their seats.  Once all of the
students were confirmed as being inside of the dining hall, the doors were
shut and locked.  Many of the girls were looking around nervously, clearly
expecting some kind of repeat of the night before.  Matthus began to speak
then, in that same loud, confident voice that he had used doing the opening
ceremonies.  "Welcome, fellow students.  As many of you know, there have
been some rather shocking developments in the past twenty-four hours. 
Joey, a dear friend of us all, cracked under the constant pressure that we
all endure here at Harlwood.  The workload was just too much for him and
things went very badly.  In a personal conference with Professor Dawbs, and
the visiting Mr.  Peter Strambord, he simply snapped.  Somehow, he had
smuggled in a revolver and after stabbing Mr.  Strambord, he pushed him out
of a window of his office.  He then turned on Professor Dawbs and shot him
dead.  This is a sad day for us all, and they will be missed.  Joey is now
in the hands of the police, and justice will be served.  Our prayers are
with Joey as he fights to recover from this mental collapse."

   The silence of the students was deafening.  It was clear that many did
not believe that such a thing could have happened.  It seemed as if they
all wanted the pretense gone from the charade.  To Isabelle it seemed as if
Matthus loved performing, and he milked the situation for all it was worth.
"However, I do have a great announcement to make.  After conferring with
the remaining instructors and the Dean, it has been unanimously agreed upon
that I am going to be taking up a role as an instructor here." The brought
a gasp from a few of the girls gathered, several of which broke into sobs.
There were grins on the faces of a few, mostly the boys, but as Isabelle
looked out over the crowd, she could see Lisa smirking to herself.  "I will
be personally teaching many of you, in small groups of three to four.  My
primary role will be as a firm guide on personal projects, which I will
assign.  Also, the program of instruction will be changing, to facilitate
better education.  All girls will now be taking a different study program,
based upon your current achievements.  The boys will continue along their
current path."

   This brought a few outraged cries from the girls that were bolder,
particularly those who were tied down.  "You can't do this!" cried one,
while another shouted, "You just wait until my father comes to pick me up!"
The dissent was not taken well by Matthus, who raised his hand sharply as
if to cut them off.  When that signal went unnoticed, several of the boys
rose from their seats and brandished crops, where they came from Isabelle
couldn't guess.  With a few deft swings, the riding crops snapped loudly
across the cheeks of the complaining girls.

   Matthus spoke up once more, his voice touched with a harshness that
hadn't been there before, "Silence!  I am tired of the attitudes that have
festered among all of you girls for far too long.  It's time that you
received proper instruction on how to behave!  This is a preparatory school
after all.  And it is time that all of you were put into your proper place.
I've been much too lenient in my demonstrations over these years.  But now
that I am officially in a position to instruct all of you, I'm going to be
taking it damn seriously!" That speech had indeed had the entire room
silent as the grave.  Several of the girls were trembling, and the ones who
had spoken out were now submissively quiet.  The threat of the crop looming
over the dissenters was very effective.  Even Isabelle trembled at the
thought of being struck with that leather.  "You're instruction will begin
tonight!  With the help of the boys, and Miss Meydenbuar, you will receive
your preliminary discipline!" Gesturing with his free hand to the
voluptuous woman at his side, the rest of the boys rose from their seats.
Each wielding the dreaded punishment for disobedience, many of the girls
did not hesitate to jump to their feet at the prodding they received.

   Isabelle stood looking around in disbelief.  She couldn't even imagine
how things could have gotten worse from the previous night.  But here it
was, doing just that.  The struggle was renewed, as she tugged her arm back
viciously in an attempt to free herself.  Matthus turned to her then, and
grinned, "Trying to get away, hrm?  Well, seeing how much trouble you've
caused in one day, I think you're going to be the worst case of all.  So
I've decided that I am going to give you more personal attention,
Isabelle." She cringed, continuing her unrelenting struggle.  Matthus
merely laughed, while she struggled in vain to free herself from his grip.
He addressed the crowd once more; "I'm going to leave all of you to your
entertainment.  Miss Meydenbuar will oversee the events to ensure that the
collarings go according to plan.  In my absence she is in charged.  Despite
the fact that she is a woman, she knows her place and speaks in my
interests.  Enjoy the evening all.  I fully expect to hear the cries of the
night's activities carrying through until tomorrow morning.  There are no
restrictions tonight!  As long as none of the girls turn up dead in the
morning, I'll be happy.  Classes are cancelled for tomorrow in light of
this much more pressing instruction.  And Lisa, you will be joining me for
the evening."

   The lithe blonde hurried from the line being formed, and rushed to stand
beside Matthus.  She didn't even say a word as she prepared to follow him.
Turning away from the crowd, Matthus once more began to drag Isabelle.  For
her part, she was scared out of her mind.  Whatever was in store for her,
she knew it wouldn't be pleasant.  The long trek to Matthus's room was
agonizing for the poor redhead.  She was fighting an internal battle,
desperate to flee, but at the same time knowing in her heart that she would
only make it worse for herself if she did.  Her panic was slowly calming,
until Lisa spoke up behind her.  "What do you have in store for this little
slut, Master?" her voice was positively oozing with contempt.

   "I've got several things planned.  Little Miranda wasn't nearly as fun
to play with as I had hoped.  But she did give me quite a few good squeals
before she finally broke." Matthus laughed at that, a laugh that sounded so
wicked to Isabelle's ears.  It was met by an empty-headed giggle from Lisa.
Matthus must have been working on her for a long time to get such a blind
obedience out of her, Isabelle thought.  "Never-the-less, I think she'll be
entertaining.  Most of the girls here crumbled as soon as they were
raped...but Miss Brookes here is holding up surprisingly well.  I'm hoping
that means that she'll provide a nice challenge to my abilities."

   "Quit talking about me like I'm not here!" Isabelle spat out finally. 
Something about Matthus simply infuriated her.  She reasoned that it must
be his complete contempt for everyone else.  His blind cruelty made her
sick to her stomach and his casual take on it all had her shaking in rage.
"You are nothing but a monster.  You can't keep this up forever.  You've
got four months, you son of a bitch.  Four months and parents are going to
start showing up to pick up their kids.  You might have been able to get
away with brutalizing these girls before now, but I'm not going to back
down so easily."

   Matthus simply burst out laughing, "You see?  That's exactly what I'm
talking about!  You're going to be so much fun, Isabelle.  God I can't wait
to hear what kind of sounds I can make come out of you!" The sheer glee in
his voice was upsetting, and the ominous reply that he gave to her cracked
her resolve for a moment.  He was happy that she was resisting, and more
than that he was thoroughly confident that he could break her.  It left
Isabelle with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.  What if he can? 
The thought turned her stomach, but try as she might she couldn't force it
from her mind.

   The emerald-eyed beauty suddenly realized that they had arrived at
Matthus's room.  This was the room that had been barred to her on that
first day of exploration.  A little gasp left her throat, as Matthus put
the key in and unlocked the door.  The door easily swung open with a turn
of the knob.  From the darkness a little whimper was heard, but nothing
else.  Flicking on the light, Isabelle's gaze flicked around the room.  The
room itself was plain, but at the same time it was easily three times the
size of any of the other students rooms.  The reason for this was obvious,
after he eyes passed over the typical furniture.  At the far end of the
room was an arrangement of strange devices, the likeness of which Isabelle
had never seen.  Empty frames and bizarre sawhorse shaped devices made up
the majority.  There was one odd looking frame that reminded her of a
gynecologist's chair.  She shuddered as she realized what those devices
must indeed be for.

   A sudden yank on her arm drew her attention back to her captors. 
Matthus had relinquished her wrist, but she found his strong grip was soon
replaced by the more delicate, but no less eager hold of Lisa's hands.  She
grabbed each of Isabelle's wrists, and twisted them behind her back. 
Matthus closed the door behind him, locking it securely.  The soft whimper
could be heard again, and Matthus moved over to what appeared to be a box
in the corner.  Upon closer inspection, it was not a box, but a cage that
had been covered with a sheet.  With a sudden tug, the sheet fell away,
revealing the small form of Miranda, stripped completely of her clothing.
Upon seeing Matthus she curled up slightly, but as he stuck his hand into
the cage, she tentatively bent towards his fingers.  Her little pink tongue
slipped out to lick softly at the offered palm.  Matthus simply chuckled,
and a moment later patted Miranda lightly on the head.  "A few hours with
her, and she was ready to be whatever I told her she was.  I told her she
was my little fuck-puppy and she just fell right into place.  Isn't that
right, little Miranda?" Scratching her lightly behind the ear, a little
mewling whine left her throat.  Her eyes were downcast, completely unable
to look Matthus in the eyes.

   "My god..." Isabelle whispered softly, "You destroyed that poor girl."
Tears rolled down her cheeks, it hadn't even been a day and already she was
the poor girl was too fearful to do anything but pretend to be Matthus's
pet.  She spoke with a renewed courage, steeling herself for whatever
Matthus might do to her now, "Don't worry, Miranda!  I'll get you out of
here!"

   The little girl curled up into a ball, as Matthus replaced the cover on
the cage.  "Don't worry about her, Isabelle.  The one that you should be
worrying about is yourself.  She endured her discipline training, and
learned her place very quickly.  You on the other hand, I imagine will be
much harder to break." Lisa giggled softly, and Isabelle fought for a
moment against her grip.

   "You'll never get me to do what you want, sicko." Isabelle spat at him,
but missed.  For his part, he moved towards her, causing her to try to
twist away.  The feeling of his fingers slipping into her hair as he raised
his hand had her shutting her eyes tightly.  Then she felt the harsh twist
of his digits as they wrapped around her crimson tresses.

   "Hrm...how should I proceed with you," he mused as he lightly tapped his
chin.  "I'll start off simple and we'll see where to go from there."
Releasing his grip on her hair, Matthus moved to pick something up.  When
Isabelle opened her eyes, she gasped.  He had a yardstick firmly in his
grasp.  The flexible wooden plank looked very menacing being wielded by
him. Her struggle renewed, she watched him settle on the edge of his bed.
With a swift motion of his hand Lisa began to push Isabelle towards him. 
The redhead worked her arms back and forth desperately, but the taller girl
obviously had some experience restraining captives before.  Isabelle
quickly found herself bent over Matthus's knees like a child.  Lisa
straddled over her head, her thighs locking her in place.  The firm grip of
the other girl's hands kept Isabelle's torso in check.  She could feel the
back of her skirt being lifted, the trashing of her legs doing very little
in her current position.  With Lisa's skirt covering her head, everything
was dark.  And with her strong thighs closed over Isabelle's ears she
couldn't hear anything either.  All she had was her sense of touch.

   The first strike came without warning.  It stung sharply across her bare
ass.  She vaguely remembered removing her panties in disgust when she had
been locked in the cell.  Now she would have killed for even their modest
protection.  The second blow came then.  A long, pained cry left her
throat, and she heard the muffled laughter of her captors.  Hot stinging
shot across her ass cheeks, and she felt a long hot stripe glowing on the
gentle curve of her ass.  Tears were touching on her cheeks now.  She could
endure this pain, if that was all that there was.  The strikes were coming
quicker now.  The third and fourth were in quick succession.  Each brought
a yelp from her lips.  Tears rolled freely from her eyes, smearing against
Lisa's thighs.  With every new stripe across her poor rear, Isabelle's pain
intensified.  By the tenth slash of the yardstick she was bawling.  She
could feel her face, and especially her ass flaming red, one from the
intensity of the pain and the other from the repeated blows.  With no sight
and no sound she was only left with the pain.  It was torturous and
humiliating to be spanked in such a manner.  And to make matters worse she
felt something warm and damp against the back of her neck.  At first she
thought it was sweat, but then the soft scent of feminine arousal hit her
nose.  It's Lisa!  This is actually turning her on!  An unexpectedly hard
blow of the plank suddenly interrupted Isabelle's train of thought across
her thighs.  With renewed vigor her sobs began again.  It was hard to
breath with her head clamped between Lisa's legs and the sobbing was only
making things worse.  With each tormenting blow, her breathing grew more
ragged.  She started to get a little light headed, just as she was wracked
by a fit of coughing.  Sometime during her spasms the blows stopped.  She
was allowed to catch her breath.  Isabelle noticed the gentle flexing of
Lisa's thighs against her cheek, and again felt the warm, damp spot on the
back of her neck.  She shuddered when she realized that Lisa had been
grinding her hips down on her neck.  Catching the sound of a muffled
conversation, she felt Lisa dismounting from her head.  The brightness of
the light after such an ordeal was painful.  The first thing that she saw
once her eyes had adjusted was Lisa smirking down at her.  She gave her a
look of knowing full well that Isabelle must have noticed her arousal. 
Isabelle felt a hand on her tormented ass then, wincing at the sudden brush
over so tender an area.  Her face was still stained with tears and flushed
red as she turned to try to see what was happening.  It was Matthus, she
knew.  He didn't say a word, as his fingers stroked over her pert rear.  A
little whimper left her throat, "Please...it hurts..." "By the time I'm
finished with you, slut, this will be business as usual.  Don't worry, I
hear that pain and pleasure mix nicely once you get used to it.  It just
takes a few months." Lisa giggled, but remained silent as usual.  Matthus
simply smirked down at Isabelle, his fingers still stroking her ass. 
"Since my arm is getting tired, let's get her strung up on one of those
frames." "Of course, Master." Lisa grinned down to Isabelle, who turned
away.  Feeling herself being tugged to her feet once more, she struggled
for a moment, before resigning herself to being moved.  Lisa leaned closer
to Isabelle, whispering softly to her, "I'm going to love watching you beg.
And trust me, you'll be begging before the end.  Matthus might not seem
mad, but because of you, bitch, he took it out extra hard on me.  I hope
Matthus lets me ruin that pretty face of yours." She fell silent when she
had dragged the limp red head to one of the frames against the wall. 
Isabelle looked up briefly, the large X-shaped frame filling her vision
from this close.  A sudden trembling began, starting in her fingertips and
worming its way through the rest of her body.  Dread welled inside of her,
just as Lisa snapped her wrists into the cuffs on the frame.  By the time
that she felt her legs being secured, Isabelle was almost ready to burst
into tears once more.  The whole situation was so unreal to her, but the
soft throbbing of her abused ass was a constant reminder of what was
happening to her.  It's only going to get worse, that thought ran through
her head over and over again.  It was like a drum, beating on her temples
and working at the ever quickening pace of her heart.  For a second, if
Matthus had said the right thing, or pressed to her in just the right way,
she would have broken.  Isabelle felt so very worthless, fear gripping her
mind as she was secured to the frame.  So softly she begged, but only Lisa
was close enough to hear, "Please..." The soft plea only brought a wicked
smirk from the blonde girl.  That smirk did more for Isabelle than any kind
words could have.  There was no solace in these walls, and Isabelle was
left on her own, to steel herself against the coming onslaught.  Her inner
will fought desperately against her fear.  There was so little left for her
now, only her life and her mind were hers anymore.  Whatever he planned to
do to her, she would last against it.  She just had to if she ever wanted
to see her father again.  And for now, the fear subsided.  Isabelle was
left staring ahead, her gaze fixed upon the golden boy.  Those crystal
green eyes were daggers against him.  For a moment he paused, considering
the red head, whose eyes were so different from the others that he had
broken.  Suddenly a great green wall stood between him and his wishes, with
no trace of her fear in it.  "My God, you are going to be marvelous when I
am finished." And so Matthus set about to destroy it.

   To be continued

   Chapter 4 - Enter, The Artist With Isabelle set against Matthus, how
will their confrontation play out?  And just what exactly is Matthus
planning to do with her?

   I hope that you are enjoying Isabelle's trials.  The next chapter
promises to be filled with more abuses by the wicked golden boy, as well as
a few surprising truths.  As always, let me know if you are enjoying my
stories.  I write for my readers as much as I write for myself.  And when
you let me know when you enjoy something, I'm much more likely to continue
with my writings.  Thank you.
   -SmilingWithSin