"Very nice, Pamela." Jan looked down at t,he two red imprints before dropping her mini-skirt.

Jan led the girls along the cement walk to the entrance and it came quite natural for Pamela and

Donna to hold hands as they walked towards the ivy building.

"You little minx," whispered Donna while smil- ing. "Why'd you kiss her pussy so long?"

"Figure whatever they give us, or do to us, or make us do, we'll just do it better and longer! We'!! love longer, and scream Louder when they hurt us:

Make 'em see that we are two real girls!"

"That's beautiful, Pam. Really it is. The.most beautiful thing I ever heard. 1'm with you. As long as we have each other we'll show'em!"

The held hands squeezed together with a mes- sage of love and caring.

Their room was on the second floor, and as rooms went, was really quite nice and comfortable. For one person. There was 'only one chest of drawers and one bed, the latter very narrow and obviously meant for one girl. The implication was not lost on

Pamela and Donna, but neither remarked about it,

Nor did they comment on the pair of chains hang- ing from the ceiling.

The girls unpacked and immediately found n space problem for their things, but the solution was forthcoming from Pamela.

"Look, hon, this whole thing isn't gonna be a picnic. This isn't a hotel. We're squeezed in here like two peas in a pod, and the idea is very.clear.

We're gonna be one, not two! We're just about the same size. Let's just throw all our stuff together in t,he chest and not worry about what belongs to whom. We'll just wear each other's stuff. What say'?"

"Even panties?"

"Why not?"

"O.K. by me, love."

In the early evening, Jan appeared and took the girls down to the library to meet the "in-charge."

Pamela had thought about the headmistress or warden or keeper or whatever one calls her. Her visions conjured up a woman of fifty, hard, masculine looking, severe clothes, with a forty-foot whip in her hand. With spikes in it. Her vision was nicely shattered by Ravan who sat waiting for them in a recliner chair. The woman was perhaps forty, still with a slim, lovely figure and a face of classic feminine maturity so natural to that age.