Chapter 2

Blackfriars Grange, situated in the bleak flatness of Westmorland, was one of half a dozen such Reform Schools in the United Kingdom. Two hundred years previously it had been the country seat of a Victorian recluse and it retained much of the bulky, ugly grimness of that period. There was a central section, with a pilloried portico, and two long wings, East and West. Once those windows had been curtained, or maybe shuttered; now they were barred ... which scarcely added to the appearance of the gaunt, granite building.

Set in something like 40 acres, part pastoral, part wooded, the estate had originally been encircled with tall iron railings. Iron, and labour, and been cheap in those days. The railings remained, but had been reinforced by two other barriers. These were of heavy, coiled barbed wire, twelve feet in height. One barrier was within the railings, the other without it. Thus, to all intent and purposes, Blackfriars Grange was escape proof, having but one entrance and exit to the place. This was the main gate, guarded night and day by a security guard.

If proof were needed of the excellence of the security system in the Grange it need only be said that no-one had ever succeeded in escaping from the place. Mind you, there were other deterrents. Anyone even attempting to escape was made to wish they had not.

Anna Dobson saw none of this as she entered. She was locked in one of the small cells of a windowless prison van - one of three new prisoners beginning sentence. The van came to a halt in a courtyard, the doors were unlocked and prison guards came to take over. Unceremoniously the three young women were bustled through a grille gate ... and into the main prison block.

* * *

Amelia Frayn, the Governess of Blackfriars Grange, was a woman in her early fifties. Unmarried, she had always been a career woman... the prison service coming to her as perfectly natural. She was made for the job, and had known that since her twenties, when she had begun as a humble junior guard in a female Reform School. Amelia Frayn had known this was the right career because she enjoyed the work so much. She had never made any bones about that, saying that if people did not enjoy acting the disciplinarian, they shouldn’t take up a prison job.

To punish came naturally to her. She admitted the enjoying that, too, whether she was ordering punishment or administering it personally. Again, she would state that if one had any qualms or conscience about correcting an errant prisoner, one shouldn’t be doing the job. The ‘girls’ as she referred to the female inmates were there to be reformed, and it was the duty of the prison officials to reform them.

Her attitude, her attention to detail and, above all, her reforming zeal, had brought Amelia Frayn swift promotion. First as Chief Warden then, whilst still in her thirties, her success there had brought her the post of Governor of a Senior School at the age of 45 - relatively early in life. It was a position that satisfied her completely and, even if she had been offered promotion to a higher post she would not have accepted it.

She had found what she wanted to do in life; and she did it whole-heartedly.

Appropriately enough, Amelia Frayn was a keen student of the Victorian era, and she was a great admirer of the people of that time and their way of life. And, of course, their disciplinary methods and prison system.

Amelia Frayn even went so far as to behave like a Victorian woman in her manners and her dress. Invariably she was garbed in a severely simple long gown of grey or black - or, just occasionally, purple. This form of dress, it need hardly be said, added to the severity of her appearance, which was already hard enough. She had what can only be described as a bleak face ... something out of Dickens. There was a paleness about her skin which belied the toughness and iron will beneath. Her facial bone structure was angular, her forehead high... and she wore her hair in Victorian matronly style, with it pulled back tight over the skull and fastened in a ‘bun’ at the back. Surprisingly for her age, that hair was still jet black, though there were some who said, behind her back, that she dyed it.

Yes... a formidable woman by any standards, and made all the more formidable by the position of authority she held and the power she wielded. The inmates, understandably, were in terror of her, but her staff also treated her with the greatest respect. They knew she would always back them up to the hilt and, also, that she had the ear of the Ministry. One did not cross Amelia Frayn, one toadied to her. That was the way to further promotion.


Now, as Anna Dobson and her two companions were entering the prison, Amelia Frayn sat at her massive, ornately carved desk in her study. It was a genuine Victorian relic, left at Blackfriars by its earlier owner, and of considerable value. Behind her were heavy velvet curtains; around her were huge, glass-fronted cabinets, filled with glass, china and bric-a-brac. The lamps looked like oil lamps, even if they were lit by electric bulbs. It could have been a scene straight out of the 1920s.

On the desk were papers concerning the three new inmates. Amelia Frayn studied them carefully, making notes on a pad. She read as follows:
Catherine Green, aged 24. History of intolerance to parental and school discipline. Ran away from home. Caught in possession of drugs. Sentence three months.

Erica frowned. It seemed a fairly light sentence, even if this were a Senior School. Perhaps the girl’s youth had been taken into consideration.

Next came:
Jane Thomas, aged 32. Illicit sexual acts with married men. Sentence six months.

Erica nodded. It would have been bad enough if the men had been single. Obviously, since they were married, they had sent her to a Senior School.

Finally she came to:
Anna Dobson, aged 28. Illegal political protests. Resisted arrest. Rebellious and arrogant in manner. Sentence twelve months.

Erica pursed her lips. An interesting case. Well, she had had rebels before… and dealt with them. This one obviously needed bringing up sharply. It would not be long before the new prisoners were brought before her.

* * *

Anna Dobson shivered, even though the sombre study had a musty warmth about it. She was still dressed as she had been in court.

What an incredible figure sat behind that vast desk! Just like something out of the distant past. She had seen pictures somewhere like that. Indeed, the whole atmosphere was reminiscent of another age. This, she realised, must be the Governor. From that moment on, the most dreaded person in her life. Was it credible that she always went about looking like that, dressed like that?

This bizarre figure had been addressing the other two unfortunates who had been brought in with her. The voice was sharp, brittle, penetrating. Just the sound of it made one’s flesh creep, let alone what she said.

All three women were lectured on their misdeeds... told they had been sent there to be reformed .. and warned that any future misdemeanours would be swiftly punished.

Finally the Governor had said: “You will be assigned to a dormitory. This is also known as a squad or class, according to the discipline being undertaken.” She raised her hand as one of the women made to speak. “No questions,” she snapped. “Everything will be explained to you by your Dormitory Warden. The rules, the regulations, the regime. And, I repeat, if you get out of line, you’ll suffer for it. Take them away.”

The female wardens who escorted them were dressed in severely cut, black uniforms of a military pattern. Though Anna was unresisting as they hustled her from the study, they gripped her as if she were some homicidal maniac.

“Please ... p-please ... you’re hurting my arms,” she whimpered, as she was hurried along a stone-floored corridor and then down a series of stone steps.

One of the female wardens laughed loudly. “You should worry, girl,’ she said, ‘in view of what’s coming to you!”

The coldness of terror began to seep into Anna’s belly. Where were they taking her? What was going to happen? Oh God... what a dreadful place this was!

The trio entered a small, tiled room where the white-coated figure of a woman sat behind a desk which was littered with a variety of medical instruments.

“Undress,” ordered one of the wardens.

Instinctively Anna hesitated on receiving such a command

“Or do you want to be stripped?” said the warden, observing Anna’s opened mouth shocked expression.

Anna began to take off her clothes as quickly as she could, sensing the malicious eyes of the guards upon her. Each article of clothing the women removed had to be handed to one of the guards. Soon they were standing in just their underwear, Anna in a pretty lace-trimmed bra and knickers that emphasised her full wide hips, ample breasts and long slender legs.

“Everything,” the warden directed, inwardly smiling at the red-faced embarrassment of the young women at having to expose themselves in such a public fashion. All three slipped off the remaining garments and handed them to the woman. Anna stood stark naked and utterly humiliated, wishing her body was not quite so sexually shaped as it was.

The wardens looked at them with envious hate when they had all removed the final brief garments ... noting how ample and firm were their hindquarters, how their breasts sagged when their brassieres were removed. Manly in shape and appearance themselves, they did not like to see joyous femininity in others.

“Face me and lift your breasts up by the nipples,” one of the wardens ordered.

“Please..?” Shocked, Catherine Green was momentarily confused by the instruction.

“You heard me. Lift them up by the nipples.”

Scarcely able to believe what was happening to them, the three women obeyed, gripping their erect nipples firmly between the finger and thumb of each hand and lifting their plump breasts.

“Higher....... lift them higher,” the warden urged.

Anna suppressed a groan as she lifted her breasts higher while tightening the grip on her nipples.

“Good,” replied the warden as the three naked women released their breasts, “Good, very good. Now turn round please.”

Anna turned her back as instructed. The warden's eyes wandered over the young women’s full buttocks.

“Bend over and pull your bottom cheeks apart.”

All three were frozen in shock!

“Hurry up. Or do you want me to call for help?” the warden asked.

“Oh no, please don't!” Jane Thomas pleaded before bending over with the others. They closed their eyes as they reached back and pulled their buttocks open wide, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

“A little more,” the warden ordered. Anna, almost fainting from humiliation, took a better grip and spread her bottom cheeks as wide as she could.

“Keep them held open and squat up and down.”

“What?” Anna’s voice was a mixture of despair and disbelief.

“You heard me. Squat up and down, holding them open.”

Anna began squatting repeatedly as instructed, holding her buttock cheeks open as she did so, desperately wanting the ordeal to end. When at last she was told to stop, she stood up awkwardly and turned round, flushed with exertion and embarrassment.

“Good,” the warden said. “Now hands behind your back, start hopping up and down on one leg.”

Anna glared at the woman, wondering what other humiliating act they were going to be required to perform next. Desperately hoping her cooperation would soon bring an end to her torment, she clasped her hands on her head and began hopping clumsily on one leg, breasts bouncing as she struggled to maintain her balance.

“Now the other foot,” the warden instructed with a smile, pleased that the young women were following her directions so compliantly without protest.

Still with hands clasped behind their backs, the women changed feet as directed and once more began hopping up and down in an effort to satisfy the warden, horribly aware how ridiculous they must look. The only sound in the room, other than the rhythmic pounding of bare feet on the stone floor, was their heavily laboured breathing as they did their utmost to maintain their undignified posture.

“Good… Very good, girls,” the warden said at length, apparently satisfied. “Now we’ll try some squat thrusts.”

“No more, please,” Catherine Green implored, tears of frustration in her eyes. Surely they had done enough to satisfy the woman.

“You haven’t finished yet. I want you to do some star jumps to end with.”

With a sob of despair from Catherine, they squatted down and stood up again, unsure quite what was required of them.

“Don’t you know what a star jump is?” the warden asked impatiently. “You’re supposed to jump up from a squatting position with your hands in the air.”

All three squatted down once more before leaping up with arms outstretched above their heads, emitting a grunt of exertion as they did so.

The warden nodded: “That’s right. Now keep going until I tell you to stop.”

Grimly, Anna and the others continued as instructed, squatting and jumping up again and again, grunting with effort each time, their breathing becoming more and more laboured. It was a particularly strenuous exercise, not unlike the star jumps they used to have to do in gym classes at school, yet now they were having to perform them stark naked in front of a complete stranger. After a dozen, Anna lost count of how many she had done, aware only that she just had to keep going in order to satisfy the woman watching her intently as she continued leaping and squatting, up…. down… up… down… up… squat… jump… squat… jump… until finally, first Jane and then Anna collapsed in a heap on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, unable even to get up.

“On your feet, girls,” the warden said dismissively. “You can get dressed now. Go and get some pyjamas from the store. You’ll be issued with the rest of your uniform in the morning.”

Escorted by the warden, Anna and her two companions made their way tearfully along a stone-flagged passage to a storeroom at the end, where a squat, ugly woman awaited them.

“Can I have some… some pyjamas, please Miss?” Anna blushed as the storeroom officer took a careful look at the naked women in front of her before silently placing her hands under the counter and lifting out three pairs of orange pyjamas.

Anna looked at them in dismay. They were made of thin cotton with a button-up jacket. Worse still, they were issued with matching mop caps. She was soon stirred from her embarrassed thoughts however.

“Come along girls, move out of the way and get them on. We haven’t got all day,” the woman instructed.

Anna did as she was told, first putting on the jacket, fingers struggling to fasten the buttons over her ample breasts, then pulling the trousers on. Only then did she realise that there was no elastic in the waistband so she was had hold them up with one hand.

“Don’t forget your bonnets!” The mocking reminder was intended to add to the prisoners’ discomfort.

Self-consciously, the three pyjama-clad women put on the elasticated cotton mop caps. As they did so, the warden reminded them that the rules had to be strictly obeyed at all times. Failure to do so would result in punishment, including even corporal punishment. Still too dazed to understand fully what they were being told, Anna and the other women were escorted along a long corridor to an upstairs dormitory where they were each allocated a bed and a locker. Bedtime, they were told, was promptly at 7pm, and talking was forbidden until the wake-up bell at 6am.

Anna stood miserably by the side of the iron cot bed taking in her new surroundings, feeling strange and uncomfortable in the ill-fitting pyjamas. Although relieved to have something to wear, all three women blushed tearfully as they looked at one another, dressed for bed like naughty children in the middle of the day.

“There are four hours before lights out,” the warden addressed them. “You will not speak to anyone else, but will remain by your beds and learn these.” She handed each a folder with the wording ‘RULES AND REGULATIONS’ on it.

“Y-Yes Miss ...” Anna answered meekly, taking the folder.

“You will be tested on them in a day or two, by either myself or the Governor. I advise you to learn them well.”

“Yes Miss...” Already the strict discipline was making itself felt.

The interior of the dormitory was very plain. Beside each bed, a chair and a locker. A pair of pink and white striped pyjamas and matching mop caps lay neatly folded at the end of each bed. “In four hour’s time,” the warden said, “a bell will ring. That is when you will normally remove your school uniform, shower, perform other ablutions and put on your pyjamas, though today you are already dressed for bed. You may stay up until the second bell rings half an hour later. As I say, tonight you will not converse, but learn your rules and regulations. Any questions?”

“No Miss,” the three women replied in unison.

The warden turned and left. Anna sat on her bed and picked up the file. There were, she saw at once, pages of rules and regulations to be learnt. She found it difficult to concentrate after the awful shock of her arrival at this awful place. Beyond that, her mind kept darting forward to the next day. Then it would recoil in horror. What lay ahead did not bear thinking about!

There were a lot of general rules about things like how staff were to be addressed. How she had to behave. When she could speak and when not. Dressing etc. Also the daily regime. Reveille at 6.30am, showering, dressing etc. Meal times (all food to be eaten unless ‘officially sick’). Rest times. One free day a week... this was Wednesday. (Unless required by any member of the staff). Saturday afternoons and all day Sunday, domestic duties (prisoners stand in for staff that have the weekend off). Prisoners would be told where to report. Classes were from 9.00am to 12 noon, 2.30pm to 5pm. Gym was on Tuesdays and Fridays afternoons, for two hours. Games were every day from 5.30pm until 6.30pm.

Then there were the lessons and timetables. Ghastly boring subjects like arithmetic, algebra (how Anna hated algebra), geography, history, French, German, Latin and a lot more. Saturday morning was devoted to dressmaking. This, she learned, meant having to make and repair the regulation clothing they were required to wear. She struggled on, trying to absorb it all.

After what seemed an age, a bell rang, startling them. Once again the horror-reality of the place was emphasised by the bustle around them as several other women, all about the same age, entered the room in silence. Each was dressed in a strange 1930s style schoolgirl uniform of cotton blouse and tie, baggy grey shorts over old-fashioned bottle-green bloomer-style knickers, grey woollen knee socks stockings and gym shoes. Those with long hair had it in pig-tails tied with bright coloured ribbons, while the shorter haired women wore their hair in either bunches at the sides or just had a ribbon at the back of their head.

Anna went to speak to one of them but she stopped her. “No talking or we’ll get slippered by Miss Beeton before lights out,” she whispered.

Anna nodded miserably, feeling a wave of self-pity break over her.

“Try and be brave,” the other woman said softly. “Above all, don’t rebel or resist. That just makes matters worse. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

Anna felt grateful to this fellow-suffer. Despite the absurd uniform that seemed deliberately designed to accentuate her amply-endowed figure, she looked as if she was of similar age, as indeed were all the women in the dormitory silently undressing and putting on pink striped pyjamas and mop caps. Feeling utterly wretched, Anna returned to her bed and read the rules and regulations yet again. It seemed unbelievable that she, a woman of twenty-eight, should be reading such things, knowing she would soon have to remember and observe them.

At some stage, a smartly-dressed young woman in her early twenties entered the dormitory. From the nervous reaction of the other women, who at once stood by their beds, Anna guessed she was the dreaded Miss Beeton. Her tight-fitting olive-green dress and matching calf-length boots gave her an immediate air of authority over the pyjama-clad occupants of the room.

“Good evening, girls!”

The very sound sent a shudder through everyone.

“You! Stand up when your superiors come into your room, girl!” she yelled at Anna. “And in your case, that is anyone apart from your fellow prisoners.”

Gasping, Anna got off the bed and stood to attention, as she had seen the other girls do.

“Yes, Dobson, you, like the rest of our prisoners are no longer allowed privileges. In this institution you are classed as the lowest of the low. What are you?”

“The ... the lowest ... of the low ... M-Miss.” How Anna hated that smirking bitch! The arrogance of her!

She walked around Anna who stood in the ridiculous pyjama suit she had been issued with. “Very sexy,” she sniggered, as she stood in front of her. “Lights out in ten minutes. Sleep well.” Then she turned on her heels and clicked away down the Dormitory.

Anna climbed into bed, trying to check her sobbing.