This choice: Vanessa moved off with a spring in her step. • Go Back...Chapter #6Vanessa moved off with a spring in her step. by: Mr. George   The fading, soothing tones of Miss Matthews faded, as Vanessa walked the hallways. She was looking for an excuse to use the dictaphone, and it was the shrill, berating voice of Mrs. Grey that reached her ears, and gave her the inspiration for its next use. Flinching as she got closer, it was almost physically hard not to block her ears against that screeching tone she used to deliver all her classes.
The pain was clear on her students faces, as they took down her notes from the blackboard. "If only she could do it silently." She muttered to herself, and Vanessa's grip tightened around the dictaphone. An old victorian maxim coming to mind.
Mrs. Grey should be obscene but not heard.
The grating voice, like chalk being scraped down a blackboard vanished almost instantly. Vanessa gave a chuckle, as she mentally reviewed what she'd just said. A snort of amusement, as she realised she'd said obscene, rather than seen.
Mrs. Grey was teaching with only the blackboard. She was wearing a hood, she was also dressed in a skin tight and very confining dress.
She double tapped the chalk on the board, then pointed to one of her students. The student dutifully stood up and gave her best attempt at the answer, and his logic.
Vanessa watched in confusion, as the fashions seemed to change for the students too. As a number of gags appeared in mouths. The silenced pupils sitting, mortified by their inability to answer.
She only noticed it was the other female students, as she felt her own clothes conform to the new rules. The dictaphone applying the rules broadly, instead of purely on Mrs. Grey.
Her own legs felt bound together, but it was just a hobble dress. That kept her in place. She regretted the slip of her tongue, and as she realised the danger.
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Venassa raised the dictaphone to her lips. But before she could utter a single word, her head was enclosed. Every sound was instantly muffled, as panic rose. Her nose was unobstructed, and she could see. But with her mouth covered, even the simplest use of the dictaphone was beyond her.
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The instinct to flee was confounded by the hobble dress, which would only allow the slowest shuffle of heel-toe-heel-toe and that was with a necessary wiggle of her hips.
Fingers scrabbling, she tried to peel the hood off, but it was far too tight. However, her trembling fingers did find the laces that held the hood firmly in place.
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/71/64/0f/...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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