FOUNDLING

BY CHRISTOPHER TOILKIEN

[ part 43 ]

A Relatively Quiet Week 2

Tradition, the school was built on them.

Traditions of obedience, dedication and duty.

Obedience to the rules, Sisters, Instructors and guards.

Dedication of mind and body to the training provided by the school.

Duty, each girl to her school and each other.

The school, its duty to retrieve and care for, abused, sick or abandoned graduates.

New girls are eased through their first traumatic months by mentoring senior girls. Who remember when they, themselves were trying to become accustomed to the realization they were now irreversibly sex slaves in training.

Property Retrieved

Brettina walked down to the beach directly after breakfast. She headed for one of the most private of the black umbrellas set up along the outer edges of the beach. The ones at where the beach ran up to the rock the fortress was built on. They were angled on their sides as the others were, but also angled to block the view from the majority of the beach.

Girls gasped as Satellite walked past. Not at her obviously switched body, as most of them had endured a switching as they hung by their wrists in the courtyards of either school venue. But that it was Satellite, who had never before been punished that way. And even more importantly, rumored it had been administered in Sister A's own office.

Two girls, who had been setting up to enjoy each other's bodies, jumped up and moved down to the next black umbrellas on its side. They did not have to, as the umbrellas were, by school rules, first come, first served. But apparently, out of respect for Satellites efforts on all there behaves.

Actually, the two girls, Aidia, an Afro-American beauty, and here current love. Sphuor, an Arabic beauty, had been directed, right after breakfast, by two guards to follow them into a ground floor classroom. Inside, the two started to quake in fear as they saw Sister B, two of her assistance in attendance at her sides, awaited them. They quickly dropped to their knees in front of her, and began licking her boots.

"Nice try, but it is Sister Monette who appreciates that submissive gesture" She purred. "I have a small task for you two. One that I am sure you will wish to carry out with due diligence"

"Yes Mistress" The two girls quaked. Remembering full well, that when Mistress B purred, little girls were usually screaming in pain.

"Look up" Mistress B ordered. She removed a small perfume bottle, cut exquisitely out of crystal, from its blue silk bag. "Stick your tongue out" She ordered, and the two trembling girls complied.

Mistress B touched her black leather gloved finger to the tip of the bottle after unstopping it with her left hand. She then touched the finger to each girl's lips. The effect on each girl was instantaneous. Their faces flushed, nipples stiffened and hardened, and their loins quivered with desire. Soft moans escaped their lips.

"You two will offer to rub this oil all over the girl known as Satellites thrashed body. Tell her it will greatly reduce the pain from her thrashing. Then a few minutes later, when the oil has had time to brush aside the pain of the flogging, engage in a menage de trios with her. I know you have requested a three-way, and I have instructed the beach guards that you have permission to be with, none wrist braceletted Satellite" Sister B instructed the two little lesbians.

"We will carry out your instructions to the letter, mistress" They replied.

"Good Girls, I knew I could count on you two" Sister B went on. "I was just telling my two finest apprentices. They may have to practice the oriental female tortures they had spent the last year in the Far East learning, on someone else"

"Don't disappoint my confidence in you, or I just might change my mind, now scoot off to the beach, before she gets there" She ordered. And the two girls took the proffered perfume bottle out of Sister B's hand and fled.

A few minutes later the two girls offered to rub scented oil all over her body. Satellite knew they were lesbians, but as she neither wore a sophomoric wristband, nor a virgins necklace, thought nothing of accessing to their offer. She stood, arms outstretched as the two applied the sweet-smelling oil.

"It tingles, and, yes it soothes the pain of the thrashing" Satellite dreamily told the two.

"Lye down on your mat, and rest" They told her and Satellite slowly eased her body down. Smiling, at each other. The two walked the few feet to their own mat under its black umbrella. Keeping an eye open for movement and an ear out for the moans of ecstasy Sister A had told them would soon overwhelm Satellite. They sat hand in hand ready to carry out the next part of their assigned task.

Satellite heart started to pound, her thrashed nipples felt hot and her quim even hotter. She rolled over on her back, and just as she was about to let her hands caress them, her blurred vision saw someone standing over her.

"You are even harder to find here than the first time, my love" Marcell said, kneeling down.

Satellite rolled over on to her side and reaching up with her right hand pulled him close.

"Kiss me" She urged, and he eagerly complied.

"Lye down here beside me" She whispered her smiled whipping everything else but this moment from his mind eagerly complied.

Her hands drew his body to hers and she rolled over on her back, pulling him on top. For an instant the inexperienced boy was surprised, but as she began slipping his tee shirt over his head, understood.

Soon his athletic seventeen-year-old body was skin to skin with her thirteen-year-old one. The older, larger boy's body covered the younger smaller girls. But it was her training and experience that softly lead. She drew his hands to her switched breasts, the effects of the oil enabling her to ignore the pressure of his hands on her breasts and the weight of his body pushing her switched back and rear into the woven straw of the beach mat.

"What have they done to you" He inquired as she taught him the mutual pleasures of his lips on her stiff nipples.

"Just a little switching for a little disobedience" She whispered. Something you must learn to do, if you wish an aroused slave begging for your use" She, as taught by the school, instructed. And when she guided his maleness to her tight slit, and his hands to grasp her switched rear. She responded, as taught by wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him in.

The two girls Sister B had instructed, watched helplessly as the boy walked up and was drawn down onto Satellites aroused body as they were instructed to do. They saw two guards peek around the edged of the umbrella just as his thrust into her, drawing a satisfied moan from Satellite. Looked at each other and spotting the two astonished lesbians looking on, smiled, and disappeared.

Very long time later, the two lovers rolled off each other's sweating bodies and laughed.

"That was fun" Marcell told Satellite.

"We are young and have all day to repeat that performance if you wish, my lover" Satellite replied. Knowing it just might be their last.

"I have brought a small sailboat, intending to sweep you away for a sail around the bay" Marcell lied." I hope you can swim"

Satellite looked at her love, and her mind calculated a million perimeters. In doing so, unknowingly set a pattern for the rest of their very successful lives.

"Great Idea, and I was lifeguard" She informed the only love of her life.

His role would be the desire to clime the next mountain, whether it be physical, technical, organizational or intellectual. Hers would be to calculate all the possible peramiters of his desire. And her response dictated their actions. He never questioned her reason, but either proceeded to climb, if she acquiesced, or looked for another challenge if she demurred.

He slipped the discarded shirt and swim trunks back on, and hand in hand walked back to where he had beached the sailing skiff. Two guards on waters edge patrol nodded their heads in agreement with their actions, and Marcell picked up Satellite and slipped her in the craft, pushing it off the white sand.

"Can you really sail this tub?" Satellite smilingly taunting him.

"Watch me" He retorted, setting the sail and wincing down the retractable white keel.

They slipped across the harbor, crammed with yachts of every size and description. Unknown to Satellite he avoided being too closed to one of the largest, his fathers. They swung by the shore, he handling the boat with ease. Marcell was searching for the offshore wind that could speed them out of the harbor. Before Satellite or the shore, bound guards could do anything about it. His father had, trumped up a lame excuse to send him packing back home, when he had broke the news of his promise to purchase Satellite.

But for the very first time in his life, he had disobeyed his father. And saw sitting at the bow, her hair streaming before her, the very good reason why.

"Put on this blue jeans jacket and my spare spandex shorts. The sun's effect will be multiplied by reflecting off the water. I do not want you to sunburn that backside, and use it as an excuse to avoid those other rolls in the sand you promised me" He told her. She turned, stuck her tongue out at him, smiled, and slipped on the proffered garments.

He found that offshore wind he was looking for, as it filled the two white sails, speeding the skiff across the harbor and out past the rocky headland that sheltered it.

Satellite stood, turned towards him at the tiller, glanced to her left and screamed.

The bow of a very fast ocean class speedboat had just swept around the headland and was rearing over their relatively tiny craft. The young man who had taken his fathers racing boat, finding it harder to control than he had expected. Its bow clove the sailboat in two, driving each half and its occupant down as it rolled over it.

Satellite was sucked down in the wake as the boat churned through the wooden hull of the sailboat. Marcel's gift of the blue-jeans jacket was almost the death of Brettina as soaked with salt water; it started dragging her down. She struggled to undo the buttons and shrug it off as her air started to run out. A few seconds later, as she broke the surface, gasping for air, Marcel was no where to be found. Satellite dove down, catching the sight of their boats white sail disappearing below her. Marcell legs trapped in it.

She dove down, her powerful legs driving her deeper than she had dared to go before. For Satellite was a city girl, and pools were all she had ever swam in. He had a nasty gash across his forehead, and twirling him around she freed him, driving them both to the surface and air.

Brettina broke surface for the second time, finding they were now out of site of the sharp rocks she feared they might be driven onto. But the limp form of Marcel was getting heavy to sustain as she treaded water. Then a white shape broke surface a few feet away. It was relatively large and appeared to float well. She recognized it from the rubber seal at its blunt end as probably the removable keel board. She kicked over to it, slipping Marcel's limp body on it. She first thought her eyes were misleading her, but realized she no longer could see any sign of the shore.

Brettina clasped the blunt end of the keel board and treaded water towards what she thought was the direction of the shore, but as her legs became cramped, felt the offshore breeze working against her. Marcel moaned, but checking she found he was still out cold. Then she heard thumping, was it her heart?

But as the noise grew closer, she spotted the masts or was it booms of a rusty fishing boat as it's poorly maintained motor drove it along. She waved, and yelled herself hoarse, but there appeared to be no one on deck. The noise of the boat grew as it closed, she knew no one, even if they had been on deck would have heard her. With the last of her sinking strength she kicked out and snagged the trailing edge of a heavy net made out of coarse rope hanging down from the block and tackle of the boom. She hooked her arm through the netting, and it pulled her and, with her legs firmly holding on to the keel board, them both along.

Minutes later, she managed to pull Marcell up onto the netting, but then was alarmed as the loose boom started to swing overboard from the increased drag on the netting trailing in the water.

A gruff voice ordered in Spanish "Harn, get your lazy ass out there and secure that boom. I know we are supposed to look like any other local boat, but that is way too sloppy a rig up, even around here"

Then, a mid-twenties man walked out on the deck, and after trying to shift the boom inwards, looked over the side to find out what was causing the drag. And spotted the two youngsters hanging in the netting.

"Karlo, come quick, I think we have snagged a few fish in these cargo nets" He yelled, then Satellite heard the smoother sound of a well maintained winch, and felt the tug of the netting being raised up around them, and out of the water.

As the net swung up on deck, Brettina saw two more men emerge. One, in his mid fifties, wore a dilapidated peaked cap and a patched jacket and pants. The second, slightly younger, a pair of faded, dirty coveralls and little else. The one, who spotted them, the youngest of the three, was the best-dressed in newer running shoes, blue jeans and clean tee shirt.

"Were did you two come from?" Karlo asked.

"Our small sailboat was run down by a big red speedboat," Brettina said as the young man lifted Marcell out of the netting. "He was hit on the head and being puled down by the sail" She went on. Can you get us back to shore at Nepolitia?"

"We are going to meet someone, and even then, that place is a long way from our own port. Can you pay for our fuel and time?" He inquired.

Brettina looked at the limp form of Marcel being carried down below by Harn.

"Will this do?" She inquired, stripping off the Speedo shorts, spreading her legs wide and holding her hands up behind her head, elbows pulled back.

"Works for us" The two men still on deck replied.

"Go below with Harn, get both your self and that boyfriend of yours cleaned up. Then we will take our payment in full" Karlo told her.

This adventure of Satellites is just writing itself.