It's been an exciting day for Anna. The note she found on her door this morning made the routine of classes excruciatingly slow. As her professors droned through their lectures, she didn't hear a word of it, instead daydreaming through the whole afternoon. A long, impossibly hot shower was followed by nearly an hour in front of the mirror. The other girls, joking with each other, quickly making their way through the routine as they rushed off to dinner at the cafeteria, noted her careful nude primping in the mirror with bemusement. But she wasn't flustered by them. Surely it was a mask to cover their jealousy. She was unhurried, adamant in insuring she looked perfect. After an excruciating wait, she had been approved for a modeling session with Katya Ivanova. Most girls saw it as a small price to pay for amnesty on their past crimes. Let that pervy dyke ice queen leer at you for a few hours and your detention sentence gets cut in half. They were small-minded, short-sided little creatures. Anna had seen the sort of power wielded by the Head Girls, had spent an evening at the mercy of Shai Tanaka and her gaggle of sexually repressed sadists. And aside from being an enormous turn-on, that sort of power was something far more important. A golden ticket. And she'd finally found her way in. She had spent days studying Katya's art and style, questioning other girls about her personality, and was fairly sure, after her last encounter with a Head Girl, that there were no outstanding blemishes on her disciplinary record.

But now, she was checking for physical blemishes. The horrors in this place could wreak havoc on a woman's body, and she examined herself with an obsessive meticulousness. No hickies on her neck, round ass free from pink marks from either heavy hands or weighty paddles, no claw marks or red bloody lashes along her back. Skin was smooth, white, formed perfectly to the curves of her body. Lips turned upward vainly, a smirk in the mirror as the last batch of girls disappeared back into the hallway. She spent a while experimenting with makeup: blush, various combintions of dark lipstick and eyeshadows and eventually settled on something more clean, au natural but for a faint layer of candy pink lipstick. A brush run through violet hair, cascading locks tickling at shoulder, scented strong still with the shampoo perfume of lilac. After a long internal debate, she settled on most of her piercings. Small rings are nimbly run through already attent pink nipples. They match to the ones slipped into her ears, her nose, looped through pouting lip and eyebrows. Finally, a glittering obsidian stud pierced through her navel, jeweled stud pierced through her tongue. Her heart skips as she looks herself over in the mirror, one long last turn, admiring her body. She palms the two pills, given to her by the counselor, from the sink's edge, swallowing them in a quick gulp.

She slips into a simple black silk kimono, cinching it over curvy hips, narrow neckline climbing steeply to ample cleavage. Her prescription an cosmetics are tucked into a small handbag an slung over her shoulder. Feet slip into matching slippers and she pads down the hall. The first leg of the journey brings her a combination of odd stares, as the barely-dressed beauty slips through the throngs of clones in fetish schoolgirl wear. But as she slips past the cafeteria itself, the presence fades to a trickle. And as she findds herself climbing the stairs to the halls housing the spacious Head Girl quarters, her only company is her racing heart. Modeling isn't exactly new to her. She's certainly not ashamed of her body, and has frequently volunteered to pose for the art classes in the past, both clothed and unclothed, is in fact one of the few women to volunteer in regular rotation as one. But none of those encounters hold the weight of this one. And so, there's an uncharacteristic pause, a hesitancy as she stands at the Head Girl's door, steeling herself, getting herself in the right mind space.

A knock comes softly at Katya's door.