Honeycassybooks
Published:
6. Oktober 2025
The Girls' Boarding School
The slightly chubby 18-year-old student Paula, after her parents' separation, has to transfer to a Catholic boarding school for the final years of her high school diploma. There, for the first time in her life, she doesn’t face bullying from others. Instead, by chance, she crosses paths with the attractive blonde Chloe. Under the watchful eyes of the nuns, the two begin a relationship, during which Paula willingly submits to her one-year-older companion. Within the convent walls, their relationship leads to extravagant sexual escapades between the two young women.
Chapter 1
A heavy tension hung over the dinner table in my mother’s apartment that evening. Again. It hadn’t even been three weeks since the last time the family’s mood could be measured in subzero degrees. Back then, my father had announced he was starting a new life with the 24-year-old student teacher from the neighboring school. The next day, he’d grabbed his clothes and vanished without a trace—along with the student teacher, who’d quit her job because she wanted to enjoy her pregnancy in warmer climates. I only heard about it from a friend. My 47-year-old father was too cowardly to tell me himself.
Tonight, my mother was the one to blame. With no financial support from him, she’d had to find a job and start working. That didn’t affect me much, really. But because she was terrified I wouldn’t manage on my own at 18 after school, she decided I should switch schools. Not just within the city, though—she went for the most drastic option. She was sending me to a boarding school. Not just any boarding school, but the cheapest one she could find. Naturally, it was an all-girls institution run by Catholic nuns.
I could’ve killed her. According to her, it was all set in stone, and in less than two weeks, I’d be shipped off. I’d have to take a three-and-a-half-hour train ride across the country every Sunday evening and could only come home on Friday nights—if at all. Since train tickets were so expensive, she’d only allow me to come home once every three months. To make it even less fun, the school was in the middle of nowhere on the Swabian Alb. The flyer she handed me was one disappointment after another.
After barely two minutes, I had the overwhelming urge to knock my chair over as I stood, storm into my room, and slam the door so hard it’d sound like thunder in the city. The neighbor immediately pounded on the wall, shouting for “Quiet!” My response was instant, a lovingly bellowed, “Shut your trap, asshole!” Of course, my mother had to have the last word, screaming that I should put the chair back properly. I didn’t care. I locked my door, cranked up my music, and tried to tune it all out.
But tuning out didn’t work. The pounding wasn’t just at my door but also on the wall next to me. This whole building was full of uptight prigs. It wasn’t even eight in the evening, and if I’d wanted, I could’ve smashed an entire wall with a hammer. It wouldn’t have done me any good except to see my mother’s dumb face in her bed. Before you try to break through a wall, you’d better think hard about what you’re looking for in the next room. Either way, the day was already a write-off for me. My mother was long asleep when I turned off my music, used the bathroom, and lay listening to the silence on my mattress.
Thankfully, I was still on vacation and didn’t have to get up when my mother left for her part-time job. That could’ve led to some ugly developments early in the morning. Before she came back, I headed into town for a little shopping spree. I didn’t want to run into her that day. The previous evening had been bad enough, and I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Maybe she’d come to her senses. After all, I was 18. For weeks now, I’d been legally able to make my own decisions, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
She had to see I was old enough to manage alone in the apartment after school. If I were still a little kid who couldn’t cook for myself, I’d understand her wanting to send me to a boarding school. But like this? In the U.S., I’d already be allowed to drive a car and could’ve had kids of my own. My mother still saw me as some helpless clump of cells that couldn’t even turn on a light. Was I really so clueless at 18 that I couldn’t survive in the world? Back in the day, people my age could drink beer and smoke.
Unfortunately, I had to go home that evening. I took my time, though, and retreated to my room immediately. I didn’t make dinner until my mother was already in bed. I didn’t want to say another word to her until she came to her senses. It couldn’t be that I had to suffer just because she was scared I’d burn the place down while she was at work. But to my dismay, she didn’t change her mind, and at the end of the vacation, I had to head to the boarding school.
She drove me to the train station with my massive suitcase, handed me the ticket, and helped me load it. In the train, I sat on the opposite side, stared out the window, and left her ignored on the platform. She only saw the outside of the carriage, not me. Of course, she waited at the station until the train slowly pulled out of the building. She stood waving on the platform, but I didn’t look back. Let her feel guilty for the next few weeks for shipping me off. This whole mess wasn’t my idea.
My father was to blame, running off in his midlife crisis with a woman barely older than me, disappearing so he wouldn’t have to pay. I didn’t tell my mother to get a full-time job or that she had to be scared of leaving her adult daughter alone in the afternoon. The last and weakest link in this chain of disappointments was the one who had to suffer. But that didn’t bother anyone except me. My mother even tried to sell it as a new opportunity. I never had many friends. Hardly any at school.
According to her, that could change at the boarding school. The question was whether I even wanted it to. For nine out of ten people, bullying wasn’t a problem—they even enjoyed it. But I’d always been the one left at the end. I was the preferred target and kept my distance from others. That way, I had peace and didn’t have to fear their attacks. That wouldn’t change at the boarding school. I wasn’t exactly a model young woman, didn’t like boys, and was more interested in video games.
In the virtual world of games, no one got on my nerves or bullied me. Plus, that’s where I did most of my learning. I preferred economic simulations, paying attention to all the connections. I played during my train ride, too. There was a power outlet under my seat that kept my laptop running. The built-in battery was long past its prime, barely lasting an hour without the charger if I wasn’t running heavy applications. It wasn’t much use for school, and I’d been wanting a new one for ages.
But a real gaming laptop required serious cash. Even in the cheapest case, I’d need at least two thousand euros. With my measly pocket money, I wasn’t getting far. I saved what I could, but I hadn’t even reached eight hundred euros—less than half of what I needed. It made me doubt constantly. There had to be a way to buy a decent mobile computer without selling a kidney on the black market. But I was just a broke student who had to spend at least three more years in school.
If my mother had her way, this boarding school she’d dumped me in would be my home for that time. She was pretty much alone in that opinion. For me, it was just another stop full of disappointments on my life’s path. That stop was getting closer by the minute. The next train stop was Sigmaringen, the last station before my actual destination, aptly named “Albstadt.” The name alone screamed nightmare, and the street the boarding school was on could only top it. According to the flyer, it was called “Am Galgenfels”—Gallows Rock. This was going to be a blast.
“Cheerful” was the word when the train reached the station. From Moosburg an der Isar to the Middle Ages took just four hours by train. As soon as I threw my massive suitcase off the train, I wanted to climb back into my seat and travel back to the modern era. I seriously doubted this place even had internet. The station itself was a tragedy. Outside wasn’t much better. A sign for a major U.S. sandwich chain drew only a few customers. Across the street was a Chinese restaurant that looked like it had been there since before the war.
It was just gray on gray, and my already bad mood was plummeting to arctic levels. It didn’t get better when I saw the first female Batman fan in typical attire. The elderly-looking woman with a weathered face didn’t exactly make a happy impression. Around her neck hung a large wooden cross with a figure on it, and in her hand was a handwritten list on a clipboard. She approached me and barked, “Your name?”
I was tempted to say, “None of your damn business,” but I caught myself and said instead, “I see, no friendliness in the Middle Ages! Paula Sternberg, that’s me.”
She didn’t react to the sharp comment, just checked her list, crossed off my name, and said, just as brusquely, “Bus number 3. Take your suitcase, Sternberg.”
With that, she left me standing and trudged toward the next young woman with a large suitcase. The same unfriendly routine repeated. I grabbed my suitcase, put it on its wheels, and pushed it over the rough pavement toward the bus stop. Long lines of young women, all looking far from thrilled, had already formed in front of the buses. They’d been greeted just as coldly as I had and sorted onto different buses. The mood among the girls could only be described as “frigid.”
Not many girls my age were at bus number 3, its number taped to the window. Maybe four or five, all looking as delighted as I was to have landed in this nightmare. Another older woman in the typical outfit stood by the luggage compartment, loudly complaining about the supposedly too-heavy suitcases she had to load. But we weren’t just staying for the weekend—we were here for weeks. Plus, we’d just arrived, lugging personal belongings.
More newcomers with equally bad moods followed behind me. Nobody was exactly thrilled to be here. I was surprised by the range of age groups. I was one of the oldest waiting to load my suitcase. There were much younger girls, some not even in puberty yet. Others had glaring red pimples. Inside the bus, some girls already sat, staring glumly through scratched windows. Many had earbuds in, probably to have some musical backdrop for the ride into an uncertain future.
Once my suitcase was stowed in the belly of the aging bus, I was allowed to find a seat. A mix of sweat, mint, and a foul-smelling cleaning agent greeted me, along with eyes that glanced at me briefly. No one offered a smile or kind words. I wasn’t used to anything else. Friendships weren’t going to happen here. I took a window seat in the back and stared outside. The bus slowly filled until another woman in the same outfit climbed aboard and took the driver’s seat.
It still took forever to leave. Only when another woman in the same costume boarded did the doors close. She took a microphone from the driver and gave us some reminders during the ride. Only on our first day would we be driven to the boarding school. After that, we’d have to walk back on Sundays. We should memorize the route to find it next time. Ever so kindly, she listed the street names. As expected, they made it crystal clear where we’d ended up.
We were to walk down Sigmaringer Straße, then turn onto “Schlachthofstraße”—Slaughterhouse Street. Follow that to the end, and we’d find the boarding school, which, from the bus, looked like a 13th-century monastery. It was doubtful this place had devilish things like electricity or a phone line. The building’s color didn’t exactly scream heavenly either. The outer walls were dark gray to black, utterly unwelcoming. Maybe it was the final warning in a series of signs to stay far away from this place.
In my case, that was easier said than done. The bus stopped at the entrance, the doors opened, and we had to get out. The driver climbed into the luggage compartment and tossed out our suitcases one by one. We had to sort out our own bags, of course. Another Batman fan appeared with a clipboard under her arm, calling names across the courtyard for us to follow with our luggage. Like geese, we trailed her through narrow corridors with all our bags. We finally reached a huge room filled with long tables.
Chapter 2
As we were told, this was the common room, with several corridors branching off from its long sides, separated by heavy doors leading to our dormitories. Then came another division, this time by age. Those instructed to follow the nun to corridor four were about my age. She led the way, and we all followed with our suitcases. At each room, distributed on both sides of the corridor, she paused briefly, pointed at the door, and read out names. These were our accommodations. I ended up in room number nine with a girl named Caroline Gramenter.
My roommate was just as thrilled as I was when we entered our new quarters. It was a plain, square room with two beds, each with a wardrobe and a small desk. Attached was a tiny, windowless bathroom with a toilet, shower, and sink. The bedding was just tossed on the bare mattresses, and we had to set things up before heading to the common room to wait for the Mother Superior at the tables. Caroline, like me, was here against her will. Apparently, her mother couldn’t handle her anymore, and she’d been sent to this place for “behavioral correction.”
She’d just turned 18 and was supposed to complete her secondary school diploma here. Naturally, she was under special scrutiny, which, by extension, would affect me. How could it be otherwise? If you’re going to step in shit, might as well dive in with both arms. Anyway, she was a real troublemaker. She’d been caught shoplifting and committing other offenses multiple times and had failed to meet academic goals more than once. Whether that would change in this hellhole, she couldn’t say. To my relief, she wasn’t hostile toward me. We hit it off pretty well right away.
We made our beds, tossed our suitcases onto them, and stashed a few clothes in our wardrobes before heading to the common room. The tables were filling up, and you could spot the roommates at each one, slowly getting to know each other. Caroline and I sat at a table and talked for a while until another comic book fan, accompanied by an old woman in a long white robe, entered the common room. The woman was introduced to us as the Mother Superior, the head of the entire boarding school. In that role, she was an absolute ruler, and the other Batman fans followed her without question.
Her raspy voice was striking as she rattled off an entire catalog of rules from memory. The house rules, in particular, were intense. This wasn’t a boarding school—it was more like a semi-open prison. Wake-up was at 5 a.m., handled by the overseers. Then came washing and getting ready for school. We had to take everything we’d need for the day with us in the morning. In the common room, there was a mandatory morning prayer and breakfast. The doors to our rooms in the hall were locked for the entire day, so if we needed anything, there was no access until evening.
After school, there were study periods for homework or learning, interrupted only by short breaks. In the evening, there was dinner, followed by one hour of free time, and by 9 p.m. at the latest, we had to be in bed. My mother had thrown me into a prison! We weren’t even allowed to keep our phones overnight. We had to lock them in a drawer in the evening and only got them back in the morning before school. Once a week, we had one hour to watch a movie on TV, and otherwise, it was just praying and studying.
Caroline and I were already fed up with this place during the speech. Honestly, I was ready to stand up, repack my suitcase, and walk out of this penal institution. Who was going to stop me? My only problem was that my return ticket was for three months from now, and my meager pocket money wouldn’t last two days. But I wasn’t the only one complaining. The entire common room erupted, hurling complaints at the God-fearing sisters.
We were teenagers, not little kids to be treated like hardened criminals. At least not without a court order and a proper verdict. This was supposed to be a boarding school, not a prison. It wasn’t the first time the comic fans had heard this uproar. It happened every school year at the start, and negotiations dragged on for a while. We students refused to be treated this way. Either we were here to learn, or we were atoning for crimes we didn’t commit. Even the youngest girls wouldn’t put up with it.
It was late in the evening before we reached a compromise we could halfway live with, without feeling like we were in prison. The comic fans had to make major concessions and gave in on a few points. We still couldn’t keep our phones overnight, but we got longer breaks, and bedtime was pushed to 10 p.m. Unfortunately, our rooms remained locked all day. Plus, we were required to attend a church service at least once a week. It didn’t feel quite so much like a prison anymore.
By then, it was so late that we only had time for a quick dinner before heading to bed. Caroline and I had no issues with each other. We got along well and were in bed by 10 p.m. We turned off the light but kept talking quietly—until another “penguin” stormed in and scolded us to be quiet. We were supposed to sleep, not chat. Caroline shot back immediately, yelling toward the door, “You take our phones away and complain when we talk? At this hour, I’d usually be hitting clubs, getting wasted, and letting some motherfucker take me home. Get out and leave us alone!”
We heard a disdainful snort, the sound of a quick sign of the cross, and then the nun hurrying down the corridor. Caroline laughed, got up, and slammed the door. Cheerfully, she said to me, “Think that cured the penguin?”
“I doubt it, Caro. She’ll probably smack you for that.”
“Let her try. I can teach her a few new tricks,” she cackled, climbing back into bed.
We kept talking unpunished late into the night until we finally fell asleep, dog-tired. It was my first night in a strange bed, and sleep wasn’t deep. My body was still on edge, ready to flee, allowing only light rest. But Caroline and I didn’t get to rest long. Early in the morning, another nun woke us and didn’t leave until we were out of bed. We had to crawl out and weren’t allowed to lie back down before she moved on to the next room to offer her unwanted services to our peers.
Caroline hit the bathroom first. I always needed a bit longer in the morning to shake off sleep. That gave her enough time for her morning routine. Then it was my turn, and I stepped into the shower. The water hitting my skin wasn’t exactly cozy and warm—a harsh contrast to the exhausting first night in my new home. After getting dressed and before heading to breakfast, we checked our bags again.
Since we wouldn’t have access to our things until evening, we had to take everything we might need. My laptop was a must. During breaks, I could at least play my games to relax, which would be tough in these walls. Games gave me peace without having to share a huge room with hundreds of girls. Since my battery didn’t last long, I needed access to a power outlet at all times.
Before leaving our room with Caroline, I mentally reviewed my packed items. One upside of locking our phones in a drawer overnight was that multimedia wasn’t a distraction in the morning. I could focus entirely on my bag’s contents. We took our bags to the front, where we could retrieve our phones. Caroline immediately sent texts to her friends. Since I had hardly any friends, I didn’t need to reply to or send any messages.
Our first breakfast was a bitter disappointment. You’d think the nuns would take the old saying about breakfast like a king seriously, but reality begged to differ. The mandatory prayer was, of course, unavoidable. Since I wasn’t into the hocus-pocus, I just sat quietly and waited for the “Amen.” The coffee didn’t deserve the name—it could’ve doubled as dishwater. Thin as tea and a total disaster taste-wise. The bread crumbled just looking at it and tasted like an old wooden bench. There was a bit of sausage, cheese, and a handful of honey for the entire crowd in the common room.
During breakfast, I let my gaze wander around the room. More girls had arrived since the previous evening. At the other tables, I noticed a few who caught my eye early in the morning. Some stirred my hormones, my unfinished puberty making itself known. When Caroline tried to talk to me, I responded a bit slowly, unable to tear my eyes from the pretty girls. She teased me, whispering, “Wake up, Paula! No lollipops to stare at here. Or are you more into clams?”
I nearly dropped my bread and choked on the crumbs in my mouth. How had I given myself away after less than a day? Caroline put her arm around me and whispered, “Hey, it’s the 21st century. It doesn’t matter what you’re into. Just don’t let the uptight aunts in their costumes hear if it’s ladies. They’re only tolerant on paper. I won’t tell anyone!”
Red as a tomato, I asked, “How did you even notice?”
“I know that longing look, Paula. My best friend is a lesbian, too, and she had that look for ages.”
I didn’t want to dive deeper into the topic so early in the morning. A break in the afternoon would be a better time. After breakfast, we all headed to school. To our surprise, the school wasn’t even on the premises. We had to leave the cloister walls and board the buses from the previous night. Our school wasn’t in Albstadt—it was in Balingen, about 15 kilometers away. The bus assignments finally made sense; we were sorted by our schools.
Caroline got on Bus 1, which took her to a secondary school. Those of us on Bus 3 ended up at Zollern High School. It was a typical first day of school with schedules and all the usual stuff. To our relief, we discovered a super affordable bakery right next to the school. Our classmates told us it had everything we could want for breakfast at a great price—even coffee that actually deserved the name. Before classes started, we had enough time to buy something to eat there.
In the early afternoon, the buses picked us up and brought us back. The question was how we’d get the required school supplies. But the Batman fans had already received a list long before us and put together a bundle for each of us. We got everything we needed for school. Some things we ended up with twice, but that didn’t bother anyone—least of all me. If I had more than I needed, nothing could go wrong. Since there wasn’t much to do after the first school day, and I had no idea what to study yet, I took an extra-long break.
With only a wall behind me and the nuns mostly sticking to the main corridors, I decided to start my laptop and play a game. Oddly, Caroline still wasn’t back from school. This delayed our lunch, which wasn’t ready until much later. Even when they called us to eat, there was no sign of my roommate. Caroline had somehow vanished since the morning, and no one could tell me where she was. I even asked a girl who’d been on her bus, but she only said Caroline had gone to school and come back with them.
On my way to lunch, I thought she might have found a way to escape. But at the serving counter, I was proven wrong. There stood Caroline, dressed all in white with a white cap on her bleached hair, dishing out food with a grim expression. Three other girls stood beside her, looking just as unenthusiastic. There wasn’t time for a quick chat—we’d have to catch up later. But Caro, with a wide grin, piled extra food on my plate.
It wasn’t until long after lunch, when I was back at my laptop, that Caroline came in wearing her morning clothes and sat beside me. I paused my game, looked at her, and asked, “What happened?”
“That was the dragon’s revenge,” she grinned. “The uptight hag from last night stuck me with kitchen duty. That’s their idea of punishment! But it’s more like a reward.”
The punishment for her outburst was just kitchen duty. Caroline explained everything in order. They didn’t have to cook the food, just push the prepared stuff to the serving area and dish it out. But since they had access to the kitchen, they could sneak extra food and sweets stored in a room. As proof, she dangled a chocolate bar in front of me, then slipped it into my bag. As a little dessert, she said, before sliding a few more under the table. The four “convicts” had raided the storage room before leaving the kitchen.