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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Pacific Islander in Nebraska
by Quadruple Delta (triple--delta@hotmail.com)

***

Arihi Nakamura was born on Guam, but moved to Nebraska 
when she was six. Since then, she's been enrolled in 
the Lincoln Private School for Catholic Girls, an 
isolated bordering school far from her parents. Arihi, 
however, is a free bird, and doesn't take well to the 
school's restrictive policies. Unfortunately for her, 
the school has its own way of enforcing its policies, 
much to Araihi's suffering. (M/fff-teens, reluc, v, 
tor, bd, spank, asian)

***

Author Note: This is a work of fiction. Any 
similarities within the story to any person, living or 
dead, to any historical event, or to any physical 
location, are purely coincidental. This is a work of 
fiction for entertainment purposes only. None of the 
events depicted in this story should ever be imitated. 
This work is released into the public domain by the 
author, and it can be freely redistributed, published 
or edited without the author's consent.

***

If somebody had walked by the antechamber to the 
Headmaster's Office right about now, they probably 
would have seen something somewhat out of the ordinary. 
A teenage schoolgirl, still in her uniform, with her 
hands handcuffed behind the back of her chair, both 
ankles shackled to the legs of the chair, with a long 
chain keeping her hips firmly rooted to the seat, a 
cleave gag between her teeth.

The girl with her hands behind her back? That's me, 
Arihi Nakamura. If my name doesn't sound American, 
that's not surprising. I was born on Guam, on the other 
side of the Pacific Ocean from mainland America. My 
father was a Japanese marine biologist working in the 
unincorporated U.S. territory, and my mother was a 
native to the island, whose ancestors had inhabited the 
island before the Europeans arrived. When I was six, my 
parents moved to Lincoln, Nebraska, because, quite 
frankly, Guam sucks. Apologies to all the Guamanians, 
but it is not somewhere I'd want to spend my life, all 
things considered.

So, my ethnicity is half-Pacific Islander half-
Japanese, a little hard to visualize, I suppose. I've 
got straight hair that goes down to my shoulder, mostly 
brown but with some black highlights. I've got emerald 
green eyes, and I'm about five foot six and a hundred 
and fifteen pounds with seventeen years behind me. I'm 
slim, but athletic, so I'm decently built, I've got 
notable breasts and, in my opinion, a rather outgoing 
attitude on life. I'm normally rather enthusiastic, but 
a trip to the Headmaster's Office is not something any 
student would look forward to, let alone one involving 
handcuffs.

I attended the Lincoln Private School for Catholic 
Girls, the only school in a twenty-kilometre radius of 
my rural home. It's a bordering school, with heavy 
spoonfuls of religious 'education' incorporated. The 
uniform was a solid grey, itchy skirt that stopped 
about an inch above my knees, with a pair of matching 
grey socks and like-colored (well, not really a color) 
tie. We all wore white blouses tucked into our skirts, 
with black leather belts and similar dress shoes. To 
say the uniform policy in the school was 'strictly 
enforced' would probably be an understatement. Before 
every class, the teacher personally inspected every 
student's uniform, individually, down to the button, 
for any punishable anomalies.

So, there I was, middle of my fourth-period Spanish 
class (I already speak it, so it's pretty boring), when 
Assistant Headmaster Arnold McCarthy comes into the 
room, calling me specifically out of class. Once in the 
hallway, I curtseyed like I was instructed to, then 
clasped my hands behind my back and placed my feet 
together. That was when, much to my surprise, two pairs 
of handcuffs came out.

Sure, I mean, I suppose it shouldn't have been too much 
of a surprise. Right there in the student manual 
(Chapter II, section 3, subsection x) it says that 
students may be restrained by an employee of the school 
if they are deemed to be a safety risk to other 
students. Well, I suppose I was kind of guilty of 
breaking some of the rules, but I wouldn't have exactly 
called myself a safety risk.

VH McCarthy turned me around, placing my hands on the 
concrete wall and spreading my legs. He carefully 
patted me down, moving up my calves, at first, then up 
my thighs, underneath the skirt, almost causing me to 
laugh from the ticklish feeling. He then patted down my 
sides, my breasts (seriously), then moved up both my 
arms before feeling through my hair. Satisfied that I 
wasn't concealing a weapon, he pulled out the first 
pair of handcuffs and locked my hands together behind 
my back, palms facing outwards. Using an identical pair 
of handcuffs, he shackled my ankles together.

We began the long march to the Headmaster's Office in 
silence. The chain binding my ankles together wasn't 
exactly liberal, so I was forced to slowly hobble my 
way, which made navigating the two flights of stairs 
somewhat difficult. I got a handful of unusual looks 
from passing students and teachers, but none of them 
said anything. Nobody wanted to be associated with me 
right now, so I can hardly blame them.

Truth be told, I had broken some rules. Apart from one 
day for Christmas and another for Easter, we were never 
allowed off school property, and even then, not without 
parental accompaniment, except for arbitrarily 
designated 'special circumstances'. My father was still 
studying fish in Guam, and my mother was in Buenos 
Aeries on a business trip last Christmas. Admittedly, 
my childhood, both in Guam and in Lincoln, Nebraska, 
had given me quite a large amount of freedom to go 
wherever I want. I'm a free bird, so to speak. I just 
don't take being cooped up for long times very well. 
So, I took it upon myself to shimmy down a drainage 
pipe last night, scale the twenty-foot chain-link fence 
and take a swim in a nearby pond. Not all that harmful, 
right?

VH McCarthy brought me into the Headmaster's 
antechamber and sat me down in one of the wooden chairs 
reserved for students. Apart from the Headmaster's 
secretary, the antechamber was empty. Carefully, 
McCarthy undid my shackles, before spreading my legs 
apart by cuffing my ankles to separate legs of the 
chair. He then stepped behind me, carefully undid my 
handcuffs, then redid them with my hands behind the 
back of the chair, palms facing out. McCarthy than took 
a length of metal chain from behind Secretary Jennifer 
Smith's desk, wrapped it around my waist and the back 
of the chair before tightening and locking it.

"Keep an eye on her," murmured McCarthy to the 
secretary. I had to snort, perhaps a little too loudly. 
My hands were cuffed behind the back of the chair, my 
ankles shackled to the legs of the chair, a waist 
keeping me from so much as being able to shift my 
weight.

"You think something is funny, Ms. Nakamura?" demanded 
McCarthy, pronouncing it 'nake-a-mura instead of 
'knack-a-mura', as he always did.

"Well, for starters, sir," I said, my tongue seeming to 
defy my brain's commands to avoid doing something 
stupid, "I'm trussed up like a recently-capture pig. I 
hardly think I need watching. Sir." Ah, shit.

McCarthy, as everyone knew, did not like to e 
contradicted, even on things such as historical dates, 
where he was clearly in the wrong. Contradicting him in 
front of the secretary, when he was supposed to do have 
the upper hand...

Crouching down, McCarthy took my dress shoes off, 
pushing them away. He then took my grey dress socks 
off, undid the buttons around my dress shirt's collar, 
and removed my matching grey tie. He then stuffed both 
socks into my mouth. The move, I have to admit, caught 
me off-guard. McCarthy than took my tie and cleave 
gagged me with, pushing the socks deeper into my mouth 
and tightening the tie until it was far behind my 
teeth.

"Keep an eye on her," repeated McCarthy to the 
secretary, before leaving the office. That just about 
brings you up to speed.

So there I was, completely helpless in the Headmaster's 
waiting room. He hadn't exactly had comfort in mind 
when he restrained me, which became abundantly clear 
after the first fifteen minutes of silent waiting. The 
cuffs on my ankle and wrists were digging into my skin, 
and my elbows were beginning to ache from the 
uncomfortable position of my wrists. On top of that, 
I'd had Physical Education period three, and whilst we 
had a separate Gym uniform, I'd changed back into my 
socks whilst my feet were still sweaty, so they didn't 
exactly taste like lollipops. Even the sides of my 
mouth were uncomfortable from the tight cleave gag.

Of course, as my father had taught me, showing pain is 
just what 'they' want, whomever 'they' might be. That 
was probably the source of my quasi-happy-go-lucky 
attitude. I had a mouth that just filled with insults 
whenever I was at a disadvantage, and joking was my way 
of dealing with tough times. Other people didn't always 
see eye-to-eye with me on this, however, occasionally 
ending with someone adding an unnecessary cleave/stuff 
gag in my mouth.

After forty-five minutes of increasingly uncomfortable 
waiting on a hard wooden chair, the black wood door to 
the Headmaster's office opened, and the Head of 
Students, Mark Renaldo (no relation), exited. Right 
behind him was the old-school British-style Headmaster 
John Anderson, both wearing well-cut business suits. 
Renaldo had obviously been on his way out, but upon 
seeing me, turned to face the Headmaster with a look of 
both curiosity and excitement. Ah, shit.

"Well, what do we have here?" inquired Renaldo, 
rhetorically. I cocked my head sideways, trying to send 
him a what-does-it-look-like message with my eyes. 
Renaldo and I had had several talks in the past, 
because whilst I exceeded academically and had passed 
the psychological evaluation with flying colors, most 
of the teachers hated me, and honestly, I can't imagine 
why (I say that sarcastically).

"Ah, yes, our immigrant student," said the Headmaster, 
softly. I had once reminded him that Guam was 
technically part of the United States, but he continued 
to refer to me as 'the immigrant' at every encounter. 
"Arihi and I have quite a few things to discuss, don't 
we?" inquired the Headmaster. I said nothing, knowing 
whatever sound I made would just come out as a 
humiliating moan.

Jennifer Smith passed the Headmaster a handful of keys. 
The Headmaster unshackled my feet from the chair, then 
shackled my feet again using only one pair of 
handcuffs, binding my knees together with the extra 
pair. Yeah, like I was really going to be making a 
break for it as it was, I wanted to say. The Headmaster 
than undid the chain binding my hips to the seat, then 
helped me stand up. My hands were still cuffed behind 
my back, and the region beneath my torso was completely 
incapacitated. The Headmaster than walked me into his 
office, accompanied by Renaldo, then closed, locked and 
bolted the door behind him.

The Headmaster's office was pretty damn large, with two 
bookshelves covered in hardcover novels, and two floor-
to-ceiling windows staring out at the acres of school-
owned property. There was a long leather sofa and a 
handful of wooden chairs in front of his desk, a 
massive oak one imported from the United Kingdom, which 
was covered with a handful of papers. The thing that 
was disturbing, however, was a bin in the corner of the 
room, behind his desk, which contained a handful of 
rather unpleasant looking implements, including a long, 
thin cane of South African origin and a firm wooden 
paddle. Nobody I knew had ever seen, or heard of him, 
using them, but they unnerved me nonetheless.

I was immediately marched up to the nearest area of 
open wall, where the Headmaster placed his hand on my 
back and pushed me into the wall, hard.

"Looks like you could use a hand," said Renaldo, with a 
small laugh. As the Headmaster kept me pinned to the 
wall, Renaldo felt around my hips to the black leather 
belt. Undoing the buckle, he removed the belt, and 
placed it on the floor. My skirt stayed up, obviously, 
as the belts were a completely unnecessary accessory. 
Renaldo than grabbed the edges of my skirt and yanked.

The skirt fell to my feet in a puddle, and I was 
prompted to gingerly step out of it, trying very hard 
not to get snagged on the handcuff chains. I was 
wearing a pair of regulation white panties underneath, 
tightly hugging my ass, but, apparently, I could be 
concealing something. Instead of undoing my chains, 
Renaldo simply grabbed the back of the panties and 
yanked, again. The sound of the thin fabric ripped 
filled the office as the panties were somewhat 
painfully ripped away from my bottom.

They turned me around, and I instinctively moved my 
thighs closer together, for obvious reasons. The 
Headmaster took a pair of scissors out, and 
indiscriminately cut my dress shirt to pieces, 
successfully managing to remove it without undoing the 
cuffs on my hands. Underneath was a black bra I'd 
smuggled in when I'd arrived, which the Headmaster had 
no troubles undoing, unlike, I'm told, most males. So 
there I was, completely nude, in front of two of the 
Senior Staff of my Boarding School, ankles, knees and 
wrists cuffed together and my mouth stuffed and bound 
shut. All due respect, I'd rather by studying Spanish.

Instead of seating me on one of the comfortable leather 
chairs, or even one of the hard wooden chairs form the 
waiting room, the Headmaster opened the door to his 
step-in closet and withdrew a heavy, steel chair from 
the inside, that looked like it weighted about fifty 
pounds. Carefully placing it down in front of his desk, 
the Headmaster pushed me into the seat, which, quite 
frankly, nearly froze my bare ass on contact.

Once again, my ankles were spread and tightly cuffed to 
the solid iron legs of the chair. My hands remained 
cuffed behind my back, with a small chain locking them 
to the back of the chair. A chain kept me firmly seated 
as they had done in the waiting room, but then two more 
chains were wrapped above and below my nude breasts, 
forcing my chest to the back of the seat. The chains 
and the seat were bloody freezing, and I felt 
horrifically exposed, but like hell was I going to let 
them know it.

The Headmaster took a seat in the high-backed leather 
chair behind his desk, swivelling ever so slightly as 
he did so. Renaldo, meanwhile, came behind me and undid 
the cleave gag, then pulled out the socks that had been 
stuffed into my mouth. Well, at least that was a slight 
improvement of my situation. Renaldo proceeded to close 
the blinds of the windows and close all the lights but 
the one directly over me.

"So, Arihi," began the Headmaster, with an unusual 
warmness in his tone, "could you tell me where you were 
last night?" I noted the tape recorder on the desk, 
undoubtedly recording every sounds in the room. Lying, 
at this stage, would be pointless. The fact that they'd 
brought me in here the day after my evening escapade 
meant that they damn well knew that I'd gone AWOL.

"Last night? Well, first we had dinner at six, as 
usual," I began, knowing this was the wrong attitude 
for such a 'serious' situation. "Then I went back to my 
room, as per the rules, and waited there for a few 
hours." I waited for him to interject something, but he 
said nothing. "Then, at one in the morning, I slid down 
the drainage pipe outside of my window, hopped the 
fence, and went for a swim in that pond about half a 
mile off of school grounds."

"Really?" asked the Headmaster, with a tone suggesting 
the exact opposite of belief. "None of the girls here 
have bathing suits, Arihi. What did you go swimming 
in?" Well, that one wasn't exactly hard to figure out. 
Nobody had any swimwear, but since I was going alone, I 
figured I might as well skinny-dip. I mean, it's not 
exactly unheard of in Guam, so I doesn't have the same 
sexual association to me as other Americans may have.

"I skinny-dipped," I said, with a completely straight 
face.

"Indeed?" said the Headmaster, in an identical tone as 
his last word. "Did you, perchance, meet anyone at the 
pond?"

"Meet anyone?" I blurted out what I was thinking. "No, 
I went alone. Why?" Who would I even go with, I wanted 
to ask. It's not like there were a large number of 
communities in the nearby area. There wasn't even a 
road, dirt or otherwise, anywhere near the pond. It was 
in the middle of a small forest, to the south of the 
school.

"No, of course not," agreed the Headmaster, 
sarcastically. "And I don't suppose you could possibly 
have traded drugs with a person you didn't meet, and 
then pulled a knife on that very same non-existent 
person?" 

"Sir, with all due respect," I said, incredulously, 
"your source of information is bullshit." Like fuck it 
was. Pardon my British, but I had not bloody clue what 
he was talking about.

"Really, Arihi, you use that kind of language in front 
of your Headmaster?" He pretended to be wounded. 
Anderson opened one of the drawers of his desk and 
pulled out something metallic I couldn't quite make out 
in the low light. Then I realized it was a bit gag. Bit 
gags were very similar to the bits that were used on 
horses, in order to make them easier to control. A 
horizontal bar was fit through the mouth and between 
the teeth, and then fastened behind the head. It was, 
in essence a metal cleave gag.

As the Headmaster approached, I cocked my head to the 
side, gave him an exasperated look and opened my mouth. 
The cold metal bar slid into my mouth. I felt the 
Headmaster tighten the leather straps behind my head, 
buckling them tightly. The bar was pushed deeper into 
my mouth, pinning my tongue, and resting almost on my 
back teeth. The Headmaster stood back, as his surveying 
his work.

"Now, Arihi, it's particularly inappropriate to call 
someone's information," he coughed, "bullshit, when 
that information is a human being, who happens to be 
waiting outside this office right now." He walked over 
to the intercom on his desk. "Jennifer, you can send 
her in now."

As Renaldo undid the locks on the door, I struggled in 
my chains to turn around, only able to turn my neck. 
The person who stepped in... Adriana Lopez. My former 
roommate, Adriana was a Portuguese-American who, quite 
frankly, hated me. She was, for starters, a fervent 
Roman Catholic, a calling I never quite heard, and my 
somewhat apathetic attitude towards the religious 
aspects of the school caused her... infuriation, would 
probably be the best word. She requested a room change, 
which she got, and I ended up with another girl whom I 
get along with quite well.

"Ms. Lopez," began the Headmaster, in a tone suggesting 
he was trying to calm down an excited child, "could you 
please tell Arihi here what you told me earlier?"

Adriana was still wearing her school uniform, awkwardly 
in the 'at-attention' posture we were all taught to 
assume when speaking directly to a staff member. She 
was standing beside me, so I had to crane my neck to 
face her, but she seemed to be avoiding eye contact 
with me.

"Last night," began Adriana, awkwardly, "I was 
returning from Omaha form an orthodontist's 
appointment. I only had fifty dollars for the taxi 
ride, so I had the taxi driver let me out about two 
miles away from the school, because that's all the 
money I had. I was about half a mile to the east of the 
school when I heard the sound of a girl laughing, in 
the woods off the side of the road. I... I just took a 
peak in, and I saw this girl, she looked like she'd 
been skinny-dipping – she was all wet and naked. She a 
knife, and she was taking a Ziploc bag of white powder 
from this guy.

"Well, I ran back to the school and went to my room. 
I... I didn't know what to do. I asked around in the 
morning, and found that Arihi had been skinny-dipping 
last night. I mean, I can put two and two together."

I groaned, one of the few sounds that came out 
unfiltered by the bit gag. To the east of the school? 
Okay, there are two ponds within reasonable walking 
distance of the school. The one I went to is about half 
a kilometre to the south of the school. It was nestled 
in the woods – completely isolated from the outside 
world. The one Adriana was referring to – that was to 
the east, right beside a semi-busy road. Maybe it's 
just me, but skinny-dipping loses some of its 
relaxation elements if a truck passes by every thirty 
seconds.

"Arihi, now, do you continue to call this information," 
he coughed again, "bullshit?" After a pause, Renaldo 
removed the bit gag from my mouth. I glared furiously 
at Adriana, before quickly repeating the flaw in 
Adriana's statement. As I spoke, the Headmaster's 
expression of smugness turned quickly to puzzlement, 
then to a grudging comprehension.

"Well," said Renaldo, speaking for the first time in a 
while, "there is a pond to the south. I don't think it 
has a name, but it damn well isn't near any roads."

My trump card, was my roommate, Florence Lambert. 
Florence hailed from South Africa, and I had told her, 
before I left, that I was going to the southern pond. I 
had offered to bring her along, but she couldn't swim. 
I didn't want to get her involved with this, if that 
was possible, but I sure as hell didn't want to get 
busted for drug trafficking or armed robbery or 
whatever it was.

"Arihi appears to have a point here, Ms. Lopez," said 
the Headmaster, calmly. "Were you, Ms. Lopez, at the 
wrong pond?"

"I... I guess I was, sir," stammered Adriana. There was 
an awkward silence.

"Well, bringing false allegations to a student is a 
various serious offence," began the Headmaster. "I take 
it, then, that you did not visually confirm it was 
Arihi in the pond, as you had told me this morning?"

"No... no, I guess I didn't, sir."

"Lying to the Headmaster and bringing false allegations 
to a student," said Anderson, like a parent chiding a 
child. "I believe you know what the penalty for that 
is."

Adriana seemed to choke back a tear as she walked up to 
the Headmaster's desk. Renaldo replaced the gag in my 
mouth, but I hardly noticed this time.

Without any word from the Headmaster, Adriana undid her 
belt, placing it on the Headmaster's desk. She then 
lowered her skirt to her ankles, shortly accompanied by 
her white panties. She placed her forearms on the desk, 
whilst letting her ass jut out, her head bowed. The 
Headmaster picked up her belt.

SMACK!

The Headmaster's arm flew back like a baseball pitcher 
before swinging forward. The leather belt raced through 
the air, making a brief sound before colliding with 
Adriana's rear end. Adriana let out a yelp of pain, 
struggling to keep her position.

SMACK!

The Headmaster repeated the move, causing Adriana to 
this time yell in pain. The slap of leather on exposed 
flesh seemed to echo through the large office. 
Adriana's legs were shifting about uncomfortably.

SMACK!

Adriana was bawling now, tears rolling down her cheeks 
and onto the wooden desk. The Headmaster had a solemn 
resolve, however.

SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!

I lost track after the eighth blow. The leather belt 
was flying through the air like a whip, slapping 
Adriana's ass seemingly harder each time. Her bottom 
was rapidly turning solid red, and her knees were 
shaking, trying to hold the position. Finally, after 
what must have seemed like an eternity to Adriana, the 
Headmaster stopped.

"Adriana, you are to kneel on that wooden chair, with 
your hands behind your head," said the Headmaster. 
Adriana, still sobbing uncontrollably, clumsily walked 
over to a nearby wooden chair, hobbled by the skirt and 
panties around her ankles. She knelt on the chair, her 
feet hovering over the edge, her fingers lanced 
together behind her head. For the final touch, the 
Headmaster took her belt, pushing the end through the 
buckle to form a loop, then put the leather loop around 
Adriana's neck.

"Well, Arihi," said the Headmaster, after an eerily 
long silence. "Ms. Lopez has an hour of corner time 
ahead of her, so we appear to have dealt with that 
problem." I wanted to make a sarcastic remark to him 
about checking his sources, but the bit gag/common 
sense prevented me from doing that. "But, you still 
have two unpunished offences on your record: leaving 
school property with authorized leave, and swearing to 
a Headmaster."

Ah, shit.

"Since I frankly don't want to take the time to release 
you just to spank you, we'll have to do with a more 
creative punishment."

The Headmaster walked behind his desk. I starred at 
Adriana, who had begun to stop crying. When I glanced 
back at the Headmaster, he was in front of me again, 
with a long, thin cane in his hands.

"This cane," he began, like the History lecturer he had 
once been, "was made in South Africa back in 1890, when 
it was still a British colony. It's aged very well over 
the years, if I do say so." He let the tip of the cane 
rest in the palm of his left hand. "Back in my day, 
swearing at a Headmaster would have been punishable 
with, oh, twenty strokes of the cane to the ass." He 
walked behind my chair. "Since your ass is covered, we 
require an alternate target. And we'll have to double 
it to, oh, fifty strokes."

I said nothing, not even to correct his math. I glared 
at him, bit gag and all. Walking in front of me again, 
the Headmaster extended his arm, with the foot-long 
extremely-thin cane in his hand.

It made a sound like a knife as it cut through the air. 
There was a brief sensation of confusion that swept 
through my body. Then, the thin end of the cane hit my 
exposed left nipples, and I realized what he had been 
aiming for.

Okay, I've been beaten up, even spanked before, but 
that has nothing on the cane. I imagine it felt 
somewhat like getting stabbed, as my exposed nipples 
screamed in agony. I managed not to yelp, but only for 
the first stroke.

After the first five, I lost all self-control. My 
breasts literally felt like they were on fire. I was 
sobbing uncontrollably, and letting out yells of pain 
with every stroke, awkwardly muffled by the bit gag. 
Sweat was covering every square inch of my naked body, 
and I couldn't see because of the tears in my eyes. I 
was visibly shaking, but my multiple restrains kept me 
from actually going anywhere, except my head, which 
shot around with every blow.

On the fifty-first 'for good luck' stroke, the 
Headmaster stopped. To my credit, I managed to collect 
myself much faster than Adriana, who was still kneeling 
on the chair. Blinking away tears, I found, to my 
surprise, that my nipples were, in fact, not bleeding, 
as I had previously suspected. Both of my breasts were 
completely red, and I could make out half a dozen 
horizontal lines across my boobs where the cane had 
fallen. Well, that hurt worse than falling face-first 
into a hornet's nest.

I was panting, still – not quite sure why. Anyway, 
things seemed to go uphill from there. Renaldo undid 
the chains and cuffs binding me to the chair, followed 
by the bit gag which had muffled by yelps of pain for 
the past five eternities (it seemed). I was given a new 
uniform (which the Headmaster strangely kept in his 
closet), and told sternly never to leave school 
property again without official leave.

And that was it. But, come on, if they think stripping 
me nude, putting me in some serious bondage and a 
couple dozen breast canings is going to stop me from 
being who I am, they still have so much to learn.

END

This work is authored by Triple Delta, although it was 
submitted under the name 'Quadruple Delta'. The Kristen 
Archives has a one-story/week policy, which is somewhat 
inhibiting to budding authors. Triple Delta stories 
will be added to the Archives as rapidly as possible. 
To find these articles, simply type in "Triple Delta" 
into the Archive's general search, not the author. Make 
sure you put quotation marks around the name. This will 
pull up all articles where the phrase "Triple Delta" is 
mentioned. If the author's name ends with Delta, you 
have the right author. Otherwise, you can search for 
the number 57001, or the author's e-mail address, 
listed below.

This author is open to comments, suggestions and 
criticism, and would be interested in your feedback. If 
you have a story request, feel free to contact the 
author at:

triple—delta@hotmail.com

Note that there are TWO dashes between 'triple' and 
'delta'.

Thank you for your time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 57