Taken from School Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  More Stormy Night Books by Emily Tilton

  Emily Tilton Links

  Taken from School

  By

  Emily Tilton

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Tilton, Emily

  Taken from School

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by 123RF/phartisan and 123RF/kantver

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  The Owners’ Club took Lauren O’Hara on her eighteenth birthday, after a half-day of classes.

  Two men in dark suits stepped out of a limo at the bottom of the school steps and gave her a “Miss O’Hara? Could you come with us, please?” straight out of the movies.

  During the half-hour car ride from her affluent suburb into the city, she supposed the men in the limousine, in the dark suits and the dark sunglasses, must belong to the government in some way. She had ridden quietly for ten minutes before she even asked who they were, and if she could see identification.

  One of the men said, “No, I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

  “Is everything alright?” she asked, a little panicked now.

  “Everything’s just fine, Miss O’Hara,” the other man said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It won’t be long now,” the first man said.

  Lauren took out her phone at that point, but the first man plucked it from her grasp.

  “That’s not allowed,” he said.

  They brought Lauren to a high-rise apartment building on the Upper East Side, and then up to an apartment door, all in silence, while Lauren grew more and more apprehensive. The apartment door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in a blue pantsuit. Lauren frowned at the sight, which seemed quite incongruous, but the woman said, “Thank you,” to the men, and then, “Hello, Lauren, please come in,” to her.

  The man who had taken her phone now gave it to the woman in the pantsuit, and then closed the door behind Lauren, leaving her alone with the woman, who had looked at Lauren with what had seemed a sympathetic smile and said, “My name is Mrs. Fredericks. What are your email address and password, honey?”

  “What?” Lauren asked, blinking in surprise at the very unexpected question.

  “If you refuse to tell me your password, Lauren,” Mrs. Fredericks said, seeming to Lauren’s astonishment to have grown suddenly quite impatient, “you will be spanked. Spanking now represents a fact of life for you, just as it does for any of my other girls and for all the girls you will meet who have been taken from school as you have. Jessica, honey, come here, please, and meet your new friend Lauren, so you can help her make a good decision.” She turned and walked off down the hall, leaving Lauren to frown half in confusion and half in alarm, and then to follow in hope of retrieving her phone.

  Mrs. Fredericks had entered a gleaming kitchen, through whose other door now burst a person who Lauren supposed must be Jessica. The lovely blond girl in the school uniform of blue plaid skirt, knee socks, and white blouse looked nervously from Lauren to Mrs. Fredericks.

  “Jessica, tell Lauren why girls like the two of you get spanked.”

  Jessica’s eyes went wide. “Well,” she said, her brow creasing as if she wanted to make sure she spoke in a way that pleased Mrs. Fredericks, “most matrons… um, Mrs. Fredericks and her friends are called matrons, so… they do not punish girls for bad grammar, but… you know, wrinkles in a girl’s blouse or… you know, wearing socks with a hole in the toe. Things like that.”

  Lauren’s eyes went wide in alarm, as she tried to figure out whether it could possibly be true.

  Mrs. Fredericks said, “Lauren refuses to give me her email password. Do you think you can persuade her to make a better choice, Jessica?”

  “Please, Lauren,” Jessica pleaded. “Do not make Mrs. Fredericks call the men.”

  “The men?” Lauren said in alarm, looking from the tight-lipped matron in her elegant pantsuit to her new friend, the girl she had just met who unaccountably wore the uniform that looked like it had come from a Catholic school. Lauren’s school didn’t have uniforms like that—just a fairly permissive dress code.

  She still didn’t have the slightest idea what was happening. “You mean the men from the limo?”

  Jessica nodded, casting her eyes back to Mrs. Fredericks, who now wore a very disapproving expression.

  “Jessica, tell your new friend what happened when Rachel needed to have the men put her over the arm of the sofa for a paddling,” Mrs. Fredericks said.

  Lauren’s eyes went to Jessica’s face, which had turned bright red. “I got spanked, too,” she said.

  “Why?” Lauren asked, frightened and shaking her head in confusion.

  “As an example.” Jessica’s blue eyes looked again over at Mrs. Fredericks, and Lauren realized from their pleading quality that something had been left out. Mrs. Fredericks looked highly displeased.

  “What else, Jessica?” she said.

  The pretty girl’s mouth twisted to the side, going very small. “Do I have to, Mrs. Fredericks? Lauren is new, and it is so embarrassing!”

  Lauren felt herself frown a little. Why had Jessica said it is instead of it’s? And hadn’t she said do not instead of don’t, earlier?

  “Yes, you have to. How are you going to help Lauren learn to be a good girl the way you have gotten to be since then if she does not know the consequences?”

  Lauren felt like none of this could really have happened, be happening, but her sinking stomach told her otherwise, and now the dread of the unknown punishment that threatened if she didn’t give up her email password made her feel a little faint. “Tell me,” she whispered to Jessica. “Please.”

  Jessica bit her lip. “Enemas,” she whispered back.

  Lauren felt her eyes go very wide, and they darted to Mrs. Fredericks.

  “And?” the matron demanded.

  Now the whisper also became a mumble that sounded like it started with B. The word couldn’t have been what Lauren thought it sounded like, right?

  “Speak clearly, Jessica, or you will have a spanking just for your poor elocution,” said Mrs. Fredericks. “And use complete sentences, please, like a young lady worthy of Mr. Graves’ time and money.”

  Mr. Graves? What was this place? Why had
they brought Lauren here?

  Jessica stamped her foot, and her face went even redder. “We had to… you know… give them…”

  “Use the proper word for it, Jessica. You know Mr. Graves prefers that.”

  The blond girl bit her lip and bowed her head so that her long tresses fell around her face, hiding it.

  “Jessica, that is all I can take. You will be spanked, right after Lauren, whether or not I have to summon the men. If you do not want the paddle, you will tell your new friend, in proper language, what happened to you and Rachel after your enemas.”

  Jessica gave a little sob and looked up at Lauren, her eyes bright with tears, now. “Rachel and I had to… to fellate the men.”

  Lauren heard a little whining sound of alarm come from her throat. Jessica looked over at Mrs. Fredericks imploringly, but the matron tapped her foot on the beautiful tile of the apartment’s kitchen and said, “Go on.”

  Jessica’s mouth twisted to one side again, and her chin quivered a little. “They made us swallow,” she finally said.

  “Swallow what, Jessica?”

  “Oh, no,” Lauren whispered. “Please.” It wasn’t of course that she had any doubt as to what Jessica and Rachel had had to swallow. It was just that to have it confirmed would let the knowledge of why the men had brought her here grow inside her.

  “Swallow their semen,” Jessica said miserably.

  Lauren turned to Mrs. Fredericks. She had suddenly become acutely aware of what she wore: her cute green miniskirt with blue tights, in honor of her birthday (usually she just wore jeans to school), and a nice blue top that matched the tights. She had an even more uncomfortable awareness that underneath the tights she had on the lacy red panties that made her feel a little bit naughty, despite the fact that she had had only one boyfriend, and had only kissed him once. The public schools had made sure she knew about human development and reproduction, and Lauren hadn’t been uninterested in the subject, really, but she had decided to put off thinking about it at least until, well, her eighteenth birthday.

  “What is this place?” she whispered. “Why am I here?”

  “You will learn more about that very soon,” Mrs. Fredericks said in a tone that clearly meant she would accept no backtalk and no nonsense of any other kind, either. “Right now, you are going to have a spanking, and then you are going to tell me your email password.”

  “I’ll… I’ll tell you…” Lauren said, backing away toward the gleaming stainless steel doors of the refrigerator. Why did it seem so appropriate, and make it so much worse, that Mrs. Fredericks had ushered her into the kitchen to have this chat, as she had called it? Lauren had never been spanked at home, of course—corporal punishment was barbaric, her parents had always said, though she had thought once that she had seen in her mother’s eyes, when Lauren had stayed out much too late, a regret at not having ever tried it on Lauren, so out of control had she gotten toward the end of high school. “Just don’t… do that…” Her voice trailed off as she looked into Mrs. Fredericks’ flinty gray eyes.

  “You never got the discipline you needed, Lauren, did you?” the woman asked, as if she had read all Lauren’s thoughts.

  “I don’t know what you mean!” Lauren wailed. How could they do this? When she gave them her password, what would they do with it?

  “I do not mind that you do not understand right now, you little slut, because you will, very soon.”

  You little slut. The words hit Lauren like bullets. Mrs. Fredericks’ manner seemed to have changed from knowing, almost sympathetic, persuasion to censorious fury in an instant.

  “I’m not!” she protested desperately. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he only kissed me!” Something about this terrible situation made her feel that Mrs. Fredericks must take it back, say Lauren was a good girl and not a slut.

  “Do you think that matters, girl?” Mrs. Fredericks asked scornfully. “Do you think I do not know what happened when you heard that you may have to kneel in front of a man and gratify him immodestly, until you receive what he wishes to give you? What happened down between your pretty thighs?”

  “Oh, God,” Lauren whispered. She looked over at Jessica, who had an expression of sympathy on her face so heartrending that Lauren could hardly look at it. She didn’t want sympathy, either, because sympathy would mean that Jessica knew—that this ‘new friend’ couldn’t help acknowledging the truth Mrs. Fredericks had just spoken.

  “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain!” said Mrs. Fredericks. “Lauren O’Hara, you will lay yourself over my knee this instant, and have the spanking you deserve.” She went to the high-backed kitchen chair she had pulled away from the table at the beginning of this terrible scene.

  “But I’ll tell you the—”

  “Yes, you will, but that is far from sufficient now. It is high time you experience real discipline, so that Mr. Killington’s investment does not go to waste.”

  Mr. Killington. That was the first time Lauren heard his name. Not Mr. Graves, who owned Jessica. Mr. Killington, who owned Lauren.

  Weeping in fear, Lauren laid herself over the elegantly pant-suited knee, her auburn hair hanging down around her face. Weeping in shame, she felt Mrs. Fredericks raise her skirt and lower her tights.

  “What kind of girl wears panties like these little lacy ones but a slut, Lauren?” came the contralto voice from high above her. “I do not even have to pull them down to give you a thorough taste of old-fashioned discipline, do I?”

  Chapter Two

  Anita Fredericks felt considerable pride in the way she had begun to bring the O’Hara girl along. This first day, of course, was hard on every girl, and very few of them avoided a sound spanking, but Lauren took hers fairly well, eventually, and then stood in the corner quietly crying, holding her skirt up, with her tights and disgraceful little panties down, to display her bright red bottom. She stayed there obediently while Anita punished Jessica, who of course, though she pleaded for mercy, went obediently over the pant-suited knee, then stood next to her new friend so that the two glowing bottoms told a tale of schoolgirls well corrected.

  Anita’s hand usually ached a bit after having to discipline two girls in a single session, but she didn’t mind: the knowledge that she had served her employers well, and had helped the girls learn more about the special quality of their lives here with Mrs. Fredericks, made the soreness she herself acquired well worth it. It wouldn’t be fair to say that spanking Lauren and Jessica hurt Anita more than it hurt the girls, because Anita had no difficulty admitting that she enjoyed spanking them, but she did feel that the ache in her right hand after warming two young bottoms represented a certain price for her disciplinary pleasure—albeit one she felt more than willing to pay. When she had three girls under her supervision, as had been the case before and probably soon would be again, since she knew Mr. Graves meant to take another girl, Anita always used the paddle or a wooden spoon on occasions when all her charges needed spanking at once.

  Lauren supplied her password, and wrote the email Anita dictated, informing her parents and her school that she had been accepted into a special career-development program. Anita stood over the pretty auburn-haired girl as she sat on a pillow at the new laptop computer Mr. Killington had bought for her and had configured to keep her activities secure. Lauren didn’t know, of course, as Anita did, that these would include sending to him accounts of her punishments, along with pictures like those Anita had already silently taken of her spanked bottom.

  Her activities on the laptop would also, however, include everyday things like the special social network for the one hundred or so schoolgirls in the building who like Lauren and Jessica belonged to powerful men and lived with strict women like Anita Fredericks. Anita approved of the social network, and of the supervised gatherings of the schoolgirls that happened nearly every day. She thought it very wise in men like Mr. Killington and Mr. Graves to ensure that their girls enjoyed this special time in their lives as thoroughly as possible, whil
e they also learned obedience to their owners and, when the time came, the particular kind of obedience for which their youth and prettiness suited them so ideally.

  On the laptop, of course, Lauren would eventually also do other things, about which she hadn’t dreamt. She would watch the naughty videos Mr. Killington wished her to watch, and she would make the wicked ones he wished her to send him to view while he traveled and couldn’t be there to keep her company.

  They keep my girls company represented Anita’s preferred way to think and to speak of what the men who employed her did, when they came to the apartment to see their girls. Whether they took the girls up to the other, even more splendid apartment they kept far above in the penthouse, or, after taking their girls out for dinner, stayed with them in their bedrooms for a while, Anita called it keeping company. When she heard the girls cry out their ambiguous pleasure, or, if discipline were necessary, their abject penitence in and among the authoritative sounds of a man’s firm hand or his doubled belt on a schoolgirl bottom, she thought, for example, Jessica is learning to keep company very well, tonight. It sounds like Mr. Graves is keeping company in her bottom, though, and Jessica isn’t really used to it yet, is she? It’s a good thing I gave her an enema today, though, isn’t it? Everything will be nice and clean for him.

  When Lauren finished the email, Anita praised her, as she knew so well how to do, to begin the bonding process that would make future punishments—and even the memory of this first one—mean so much more.

  “Good girl. Thank you, honey. Was that so hard?”

  Lauren looked up at her from her seat at the kitchen table. Anita could see in the girl’s pretty green eyes real surprise to find in her heart that no, it hadn’t been very hard. The girls taken from school to live with Anita and her fellow matrons, widows and divorcees all, had thorough psychological evaluations before the limo came for them. The owners’ resources allowed for great speed in the preparation of these evaluations: as in Lauren’s case, a limo could be sent in the afternoon of a girl’s eighteenth birthday, the evaluation having been conducted just that morning via the access powerful men had to big data. Lauren, like Jessica, her evaluation indicated, could only benefit from her removal from home and school at this critical juncture in her life.