Kinky College (BDSM Novel)

The CCYA

I almost dropped my coffee mug. "You're what?!" I yelled, not believing what I was hearing. "You can't send me away!"

"I can and I will. Believe me this isn't what I wanted either." My dad folded his arms across his chest.

"Well if you don't want it, don't do it!"

"I'm doing what's best for you, Ella. I've booked you a place in the Correctional College for Young Adults. It has excellent facilities and outstanding staff." My dad was reading information off a webpage.

"I'm not a fucking criminal! I don't need to go to this fucked up institute." I was not going. It was not going to happen.

"If you're not a criminal, why did I have to come and bail you out of jail last night, then?" He was smirking now, knowing he'd won.

"For fuck sake." I bent down to see what he was looking at on the computer.

It was a modern looking website with the words 'Correctional College for Young Adults - CCYA'  emblazoned along the top. Pictures and text filled the page but I couldn't see it.

My vision was blurry. Tears were filling my eyes. "I can't believe you'd do this to me..." I choked out before dashing from the kitchen.

I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door behind me. I threw myself down onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow. It was then that all the built up emotion from last night and this morning came tumbling out of me.

I sobbed into my pillow. I was cursing Scarlett, my dad, the police officers, anyone. This was so fucked up. My own dad wanted rid of me. I couldn't believe it. I closed my eyes and shut the world out.

A few hours later, I woke up. At first I was confused as to why I was fully clothed lying in bed at 11 in the morning. Then I remembered everything. The college that my dad was sending me away to.

I lay in bed, trying to think up how I could get out of this. I could run away, but I didn't have much money. Also, I couldn't do that to my dad. After losing my mum two years ago, I would hate to put him through losing me as well.

I'd go to the college. I'd make him happy. I'd come back and we'd be happy again.

I reached over to my bedside table grabbing my MacBook and sitting up in bed.

I flipped it open, logged in and loaded up Google. I could remember the name of the college and I typed in 'CCYA' into the search engine.

Various results came up but near the top, it was there. The 'Correctional College for Young Adults.'

I followed the link, opening up the webpage that mum dad had been looking at earlier.

Skim-reading it, I picked out phrases like: 'excellent facilities,' 'manners,' 'individual mentors.'

I skipped past most of the text and browsed the pictures of the college. It looked really modern. Big apartments for each 'student.' A gym, restaurants, a swimming pool, various 'playrooms'
(whatever they were), lots of classrooms and a lot more.

I hated to admit it, but I was impressed. It was certainly an upgrade from the small two bedroom house my dad and I shared.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

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E xxx