[Fiction] The Girls' Academy For The Training Of Behinds (explicit))

[SluttySarah]

Author's Note:
This story starts off slow and doesn't have explicit material as I am just introducing characters (and to be realistic lol) but later it will be very lewd :P, so just a warning to anyone reading. I hope to still keep it plot-focussed though, even if it is a sexually-focussed plot. I am required to wear clover clamps any time I am writing on GetDare, so this probably will make the story much more lewd than I might have planned.

Chapter 1
My name is Alina. I've had many last names over the years, from Nikitin to Kuznetsov. Right now though, I am Alina Zaytsev. Or rather, I will soon be Alina Zaytsev.

I'm an orphan child, bouncing from foster home to foster home, taking on the last names of "fathers" I never really knew. In the beginning I'd bawl my eyes out and throw temper tantrums when the people who were supposed to care for me turned me back to the government, but not anymore. I realize now that foster homes were never meant to be a forever home. They were just temporary places I could stay, people willing to feed and shelter me for a few years, then send me to the next place, until I was old enough to be independent and for the state to forget about. Or, mostly just for the state to forget about. With the education I was receiving, I don't think I'll be independent anytime soon.

This time though, I think will be different. This morning, after waking up in the tiny bunk bed of the orphanage, I was greeted with news when I walked into the cafeteria. Before I could even grab a bowl for my oatmeal, a worker at the orphanage pulled me aside, a smile beaming on her face. "We've found you a home!" Seeing her massive grin, I of course had to politely smile back. It's not that I was unhappy... the orphanage was packed full, the beds were tiny and the food tasteless. I'm as happy to leave as they are to see me leave. But I just couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness at her naivety. At her expressions yelling at me "YOU FOUND A FOREVER FAMILY" when that couldn't be the case.

But it was.

As I now know, the family taking me in are Mikhail and Anfisa Zaytsev. They are rich. Really rich. So rich that they weren't so much taking me in, but paying to send me away. The agreement was that I go to this private girls academy for my 3 high school years, known as "the Girls' Academy for the Training of Behinds." A bit of an insulting name for sure, although "behind" was probably being nice when it came to my level of education. It seems to me like a pair of rich snobs wanting to feel better about themselves by helping an orphan but not wanting to actually taking care of her themselves. But I'm not about to refuse a place to stay, food, and an education when it's given to me. As the orphanage worker, Kara, explained all this to me, I found my own grin widening to match hers. The orphanage, of course, had already agreed. They were full and desperately needed me gone. The worker tells me that my new family is already here to pick me up.

I sprint back to my room as fast as my feet can carry me, and throw the mess of skirts and t-shirts and bras and pants and panties in my room into my suitcase, fumble with the zipper, and sprint-stumble my way back to the front of the orphanage, the suitcase clanking loudly behind me all the way. I must look like a mess. But I'm greeted with warm smiles from Mikhail and Anfisa. No, my new father and mother, I remind myself. It'd be impolite to address them by their first names. "Hi papa, hi mama!" as I give each of them a tight hug. It feels a little strange to treat strangers with such affection, but they are my family now. "Hello, Alina" he responds. With a laugh, he tells me "I know this is sudden. You can call me Mikhail or Mr. Zaytsev until I've earned the title of papa." "Same goes for me," Anfisa assures me. "You won't see much of us anyways, since you'll be at school. So don't worry too much about us." I step outside with them into the chilly August air of Donetsk and we drive to their house. No, no, to my new home.