Chapter 1

I was a senior in High School. I had flunked a year. I am not stupid by any means, but I didn’t apply myself. I had plans to be a comedian and a podcaster. I was ahead of my time, though, because Podcasts had really yet to catch on and were something of a novelty at that time.

I am about 5’ tall and have a babyface, so I look young for my age. I am pretty hot for my name, though. My name is Esther. I know what you are thinking. Everyone has an old Aunt Esther, and she is fugly. I think I look pretty hot, though, even though I probably look about four years younger than I really am. It was for that reason I tended to wear a lot of make-up.

My grades weren’t that hot in my senior year, and my parents came to me and told me they were enrolling me in private school. At first, I thought that was pretty cool. I would miss my friends, but it would be a new and exciting experience for me. I had a lot of guy friends at school. I was dating about four boys, and they all thought they were my boyfriends. If one was busy, grounded, or broke, I could just focus on the others. It worked out quite nicely for me. I didn’t have many girlfriends. Honestly, girls my age are pretty disgusting creatures. We are petty, selfish, and tend to have pretty poor personal hygiene.

I didn’t even know I had to wash my bras back then. I know that now, of course. I don’t do it, but at least I know I am supposed to wash them.

Anyway, my parents took me out to eat one day. They left my little brother at home. I thought that was weird, but I never got along with Bobby, and I was happy he wasn’t coming with us. He had just entered puberty, and he was a handful at home. He and I frequently got into fights or practical joke contests, and usually, I was the winner.

We lived in Chicago, and there were a lot of wonderful places to grab a bite. We passed several restaurants before I finally asked my parents where we were going.

“You are going to school,” my Dad replied somberly.

“Morrie, you didn’t have to tell her yet.”

“Mary, she deserves to know,” My Dad answered her. It was the first time I got nervous.

“What? Why did you tell me we were going to eat? I didn’t even pack anything.”

My Mom told me not to worry. She is the stereotypical stay-at-home housewife, and my father is the likable and funny curmudgeon. “It is all-inclusive, Esther! They provide everything.”

I had never heard of a school like that. “I would have liked to say goodbye to Bobby,” I lied. I really wanted to say goodbye to my friends. This was back in the days before cell phones were as prevalent, and I couldn’t instant message anyone.

“We’ll bring him by to visit,” my Mom shrugged.

“Mary, I doubt we want to bring Bobby to THIS school,” my father scoffed. That made me even more nervous.

“What is the name of this school?” I demanded from the backseat. My parents were acting strange, and it was making me paranoid and worried.

“It is not a traditional school, Esther. You will like it, though,” my Dad seemed amused by that. He explained he didn’t see a future for me in a traditional job. “You want to be a comedian. You want to be a podcaster. Oy Vey! These are jobs like being a philosopher or a starving artist. You’ll be living in our house until you are 33 at that rate.”

I didn’t think my aspirations were silly. I admit I hadn’t planned it out that well, but I am funny, and I have many interesting things to say. I hadn’t given much thought to how I’d support myself before my first comedy central special. I assumed I would work in small comedy clubs and be discovered by Lorne Michaels and put on Saturday Night Live or something.

“So this is some kind of vocational school?” I asked.

“In a sense,” my Mom danced gingerly around the question. It was apparent they didn’t want to tell me. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty being a welder or electrician. That wasn’t in the cards for me. I accepted I was going to this school, but I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. I told them I could probably get a job at Walgreens as a cashier until I got my first big break in comedy.

“Walgreens, Smallgreens,” My Dad waved off that idea. “The minimum wage is not enough to live on, Esther. I don’t see it going up any time soon. It’s 1996, and times have changed. You will have to learn a skill that pays the bills. You can do your comedy thing, and when it does not pan out, then you have a way to keep the lights on,” my father was immensely practical and a penny pincher.

“How much is the tuition to this school?” I asked. I was skeptical he would pay for anything prestigious – especially since he clearly had low expectations of my abilities.

“That’s the beauty of it. You earn as you learn,” My Dad seemed very happy about that and held up one finger to emphasize how much he liked that idea. I had never heard of a school like that. My mother told me to sit back and enjoy the ride. “They will explain everything in orientation, Dear. This school came highly recommended. Do you remember Trudy Waterman? Your cousin? She went here.”

“That slut?” I thought she got pregnant and dropped off the face of the earth. I hadn’t seen Trudy in four years. She was older than me, and we were never that close.

My Mom giggled a little and looked out the window. I knew I wouldn’t get very many answers from them, and the more questions I asked, the more apprehensive I became.

When we arrived at the “School” it didn’t look like any school I had ever seen. I was picturing the college from Revenge of the Nerds. Private school was supposed to include big gothic-style brick buildings, open quads with ivy growing up the walls, and statues and fountains. This was a two story tenement on the south side of Chicago. It was in a very rough neighborhood.

“Uh, Dad, this doesn’t look like a school,” I whined. My Dad ignored me and assured me this was the place. We got out of the car and walked into the foyer.

“Oh hi Doll-face,” an older woman with hard features and lots of make-up addressed me. “You must be the new girl.”

“My name is Esther Povitsky. It is a pleasure to meet you,” I replied politely. I was nervous, but I remained coy and aloof.

“Your name is Doll Face now, sweetie,” the woman took a drag of a cigarette and blew smoke in my face. I scrunched up my nose in disdain. I hated smoking and I hated pretentious bitches.

“Don’t go making ugly faces at me, Doll Face. You and I want to get off on the right foot. I can make life easy for you if you are nice to me,” she assured me. She was dressed like a floozy and spoke like she was well-educated. She introduced herself only by her first name – Ghislaine. I was a little intimidated by her. Ghislaine had short dark hair and a decent body but a very bitchy and stern attitude.

“Just do as she says, Esther. It will be alright,” my Mom encouraged me to go along with the plan. I didn’t challenge them. I did flip my parents off behind their back as they left me.

“Let’s get you into your school uniform, and I will introduce you to the other girls,” Ghislaine explained.

“Oh great, this is an all girl’s school?” It seemed to me like things could not get worse. I was in some dirty slum building that was obviously a half-ass non-accredited “school” and it wasn’t even co-ed! I hadn’t had a chance to bring anything from home. This place wasn’t fit to be a daycare, much less a school.

“Oh, you like boys? You’ll meet some soon enough!” Ghislaine smiled.

I watched a cockroach crawl across the cement floor. Ghislaine quickly stamped it to death with her high heel and paid it no attention. She ushered me into another room.

“So, this is like a party school?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, we have parties all the time,” Ghislaine assured me as she guided me into a small room. There were tacky high heel shoes on a shelf and some empty boxes in here. “Mom said there was a school uniform?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Ghislaine said from behind me. I didn’t realize it until it was too late. She snapped a collar around my neck. The collar was made of smooth stainless steel and locked with a clasp in the back. She twisted it and laughed. “This is so you do not get lost.”

“What the actual fuck?” I tried to take it off, but it was locked on. Ghislaine pressed a remote, and I felt a shock on my neck. It was a light tingling and buzz. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t knock me to my knees.

“This works like a beeper,” she explained. Beepers were a big thing back in the 1990s. “When you feel that buzz, I want you to come find me wherever you are.”

“No way,” I insisted.

“Oh honey, you don’t want to be a stubborn one, do you? I had a stubborn girl this morning. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It is your choice. Now strip,” Ghislaine said calmly as if this were perfectly normal.

“You have to be kidding,” I started to say, but before I could finish, I said, “Bzzrrrzzzzkk,” and I felt my neck turn warm before it shocked me. I peed a little, and I really felt like my neck was being cooked. This bitch SHOCKED me with that collar.

“That is the low setting. If you are tardy for class or fail to comply, we use that. Would you like to see what happens when I turn up the heat?”

“You bitch,” I groaned. I tried once again to remove the collar, and she shocked me again.

I had little choice but to start unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t wear a bra.

“You have big sloppy titties for such a short girl,” she mused. She judged my body as I stripped down to my panties. She insisted I remove those as well and then she gave me a pair of those gawdy shoes. They had a four-inch heel and looked well worn.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up before you meet the other girls,” she opened the door into a bathroom.

“Where is the rest of my outfit?”

“That IS your school uniform,” Ghislaine smirked. I thought she was just putting me on. This must be some kind of test or prank they pull on new girls to get them to walk around naked.

“Didn’t your parents tell you what kind of school this is, Doll Face?”

“This is not any kind of school I’ve ever heard of,” I offered.

“Yeah, it’s kind of unique. We have a sister school in New York and Los Angeles.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Ghislaine didn’t care for my line of questioning and gave me another light shock. She told me that the school was opened by a rich billionaire that she called “Mr. E,” and it was off the books.

“You are at whore school, Doll Face. It is time to face reality,” She stood me in front of a mirror in the small bathroom. My fat nipples were very pink and hard. I think the adrenalin of my fight or flight reflexes had kicked in by this time. “You have the ability to earn a lot of money here and have a good time. You could also make things hard on yourself. That is going to be your decision.”

“Whore school? I am not a whore!”

“No, you aren’t. You are a dumb little bimbo who doesn’t know the potential of what you have between your leg to earn you a living,” Ghislaine reached between my legs and gave my minge a hearty squeeze. She presented me with a razor and told me to shave my bush as if it was a disgusting obscenity in her eyes. She implied that my pussy could be plucked like a chicken if I didn’t want to shave it myself. Ghislaine corrected me and told me this wasn’t a whore school. “This is a whore ACADEMY!”.

I applied a little soap and began to shave my thick, black bush. I had no idea what the distinction was – and to be honest I don’t think there really was one. I started to cry a little. Ghislaine told me never to cry. “The other girls will treat you like a dumb virgin if you cry. It always hard at first when a new student arrives. You will see that it is not really that bad,” she assured me.

“How long am I here for?” I asked as I continued to sob and shave.

“That depends on you. You could graduate in a year, or you may need longer.”

“What if I fail out?” I was already thinking about the easiest way to get kicked out of school. If I flunked out, they would have to return me to my parents. I was very angry with them for bringing me here, but I would have to deal with them later.

Ghislaine laughed as if that was not a possibility. She told me that there were many remediation steps before I failed out. “You will earn your keep as long as you are here. You will have minimum earnings target. The more you earn – the higher your grade. Your grade will determine the quality of your experience. Everything you earn above the maximum earning’s target is put into an escrow account for you when you leave. Most of my girls hit the maximum every month, and for them, this is a party. Shave your dirty asshole too,” Ghislaine poked my butt. I had wild, dark hairs growing out of my asscrack. I also had a treasure trail of dark hairs riding up my tummy. It took me a while to shave but Ghislaine remained and watched the entire time.