This is a spin-off of: viewtopic.php?f=37&t=19327
Hello everyone. My name is Beth Gallagher, and this is my story.
As you might know, I got brutally kicked out of Tam and Tom’s gang and sent back home. Not that I was the least bit sorry about that, but I did have a great time while I was there. I’ve since heard from a ‘reliable source’, that they got rid of the other four not long after I had been forced to leave. Oh, well! They seem to like their own company a bit too much, if you ask me.
Anyway, a couple of days after I had been forced to return home, my mum came and told me she had managed to secure a place for me at a boarding-school, in the opposite end of the country. There they would help me with ’my problems’.
“Oh? And which ‘problems’ are you referring to?” I asked in a frosty voice.
“You know! Your desire for being tied up or wrapped in blankets, and wearing diapers.” she blurted out.
“Ah, those ‘problems’. So you think that by going there, I would be ‘cured’?”
“Well, yes. I certainly hope so, because they charge an awful lot of money.” To which I replied with a very rude sound through my nose.
I arrived at the school, which still looked like the medieval castle it once must have been.
When the door opened, on well-oiled hinges I might add, I was asked, by a very strict-looking woman with a crackly voice if my name was Elisabeth Gallagher. When I said it was, I was told to step inside, put my suitcases on the floor, and put my hands behind my back. She took me on a whirl-wind tour of the castle, ending in the girls’ dormitory, more specifically in front of the bed where I was supposed to sleep. On it where some blankets, (maybe five or six) and in a box on the bed-side table some bandages, safety-pins and a pink satin ribbon. In a closet beside the bed, I saw stacks of diapers.
“My name ms. Grant, and I will personally wrap you in every one of those blankets every night at seven o’clock, and unwrap you every morning at seven o’clock.” she remarked. “After you have dressed, I will tie your hands together behind your back, and your personal servant will take you down to the refectory, and feed you your breakfast. She will then retie your hands in front of you, before the first lesson of the day start, and will be with you all day long, tending to your every corporeal need; such as feeding you, and changing your diapers. Now, let us get you into a school uniform. By the way, are you wearing a diaper now?”
When I told her I wasn’t, she just snorted, and muttered something rude about irresponsible parents.
Half an hour later, I was dressed in the schools’ uniform. For girls, it consisted of white pantyhose, and a very thin, navy-blue dress, with a black and white sailor collar and a red satin tie. I was also wearing the first of many of the schools’ diapers. It was an “all-in-one” and was held together by pieces of tape in two of the corners. My hands were tied together in front of me by my “shadow” as I like to call her, an elderly, frail-looking woman.
She grabbed my arm with a vice-like grip, and led me to my first lesson. She pushed me inside, and into a chair. From somewhere, she produced another length of rope. She bent down with a degree of flexibility that surprised me, given her apparent age, and used it to tie my legs together, from just below my knees to just above my ankles. A third rope was used to secure me to the chair. I looked around, and saw that every girl in the room wore the same type of thin, navy-blue dress and white pantyhose as I.
The boys are dressed in white shorts, ending just above their knees, and what appear to be thick white socks. (I’ve since learned, they wear pantyhose as well). Above the waist, they are required to wear a sailors’ blouse, sailors’ collar and a red tie.
The first morning, I had real trouble learning how to use a pen with my hands tied together. Just as I thought I had got the hang of it, it was time to go back to the refectory for lunch. When the bell rang, my “shadow”, and her colleagues, came in to the classroom. She untied my legs and retied my hands behind my back, grabbed my arm and almost dragged me out of the room.
The lunch was some kind of unidentifiable mash. In fact, every meal since I arrived, except breakfast, has consisted of one unidentifiable mash or another. The breakfast consists of a small bottle of baby-formula.
Looking at the schedule, I see there’s an hour of exercise. It will be real interesting to see, how we’re supposed to manage that, with our hands and feet tied together!