"What?” She twisted to look at him, shock and pain widening her eyes, her ass dancing away from inescapable pain.
"Would you like to come now?” His voice was soft, almost a purr, as he leaned back drinking in the sight of her, squirming and panting before him.
"God! No! Yes!” She gasped out the words, unable to think past the searing. Pressing back, she tried to expel the plug, but the motion made her sphincter grasp more fiercely, and heat burned. She threw her weight from side to side, desperate to escape. “Yes,” she moaned, shame and need turning beneath the pain.
"Then do so.” She reached a hand, but he spoke a single word-"no"-and she withdrew it. She frowned, puzzled, wondering how she was expected to come, and gaped as the answer occurred to her. He wanted her to repeat her earlier performance, bearing down on the plug and using it to bring herself off.
"I can't,” she sobbed. “Please, don't make me.” Her traitorous body wriggled against the desk, frigging her clit against it even as she begged.
"Not that way,” he crooned, and she wept as she obeyed the implied command, lifting her lower body away from the desk. She struggled, but eventually her need overcame her pain, and she sat down on the desk, legs spread before him, bruised ass pushing against the wood, and squirmed her way to orgasm.
He made her pull the plug out and re-oil it, then slide it in and out in a parody of intercourse. She came that way, too, of course, and he squirted oil directly into her asshole before making her repeat her performance again. A third agonizingly shameful orgasm left her too weak even to lift herself away from pain, and she slumped over, flushed and sobbing.
"I owe you several punishments, but I think I'll wait a bit. You've missed lunch, but you can still make your afternoon classes. Go back to wherever you've left your clothes-” a brief hint of shame flickered within her, but she hadn't the strength to protest “-and dress yourself as best you're able. I'll see you the day after tomorrow.” He waved her away, and she fairly fell from the desk, drained and swollen with pleasure and pain. Her clit throbbed weakly, begging for more even now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sherry appeared at dinner, moving with a great deal of care, but unconcerned. She made Carolyn eat, shared jokes and gossip, trying to distract Carolyn from her impalements-the physical and the emotional. Finally, she asked what was wrong.
"I've got a bigger plug in me than before, and it's coated in boiling oil,” Carolyn said shortly. And I got off on it. More than once. And I so need to come.
"Well, of course,” her new friend laughed. “An ass like yours, you had to know someone was going to plug you. It's prep for the corking.” She shrugged, and chimes sounded beneath her shirt. She reached for the rolls, and her shirt tightened against oddly-shaped protrusions.
Carolyn shook her head, confused and distracted. “Corking? And what have they done to you?"
Sherry smiled, bent forward, allowing Carolyn a glimpse of chains with charms, bells and whistles and ornaments. Her nipples were dark, misshapen by the clamps holding everything on. “Corking is being fucked up the ass. You haven't?"
Carolyn looked down at her plate, toyed with her food, and tried not to shift in her chair. “No. I'd never had anything up there before. My tutor made me put my finger in there, and then his finger, and then enemas and the plugs, but I'd never even thought about it before. And now,” she felt her cheeks warm, “well, you might of heard of a student who came in class this morning? That was me."
"I know.” Sherry smiled. “It's why I came to dinner; I wanted to see how you were holding up. Things can be pretty intense here.” She reached out, patted Carolyn's hand, and Carolyn smiled in her turn. A friend could make things much easier.
"There's a workshop tonight. You going?"
"I will if you will."
* * * *
Because of her tutor's instructions, Carolyn was excused from the practical portion of the evening's lesson, on taking a spanking with pleasure. She sat, mouth wide with amazement, as student after student posed over the lap of a volunteer and was subjected to the humiliation of having their asses spanked. Not one of them seemed to mind! They squirmed, panted, moaned, begged. Not to have it stop, but for more! Every student in the class, even those who shook with fear at the beginning of the session, seemed to enjoy the sensation. Carolyn twisted in her chair, jealousy and curiosity making her bite her lip, and her abused ass throbbed a warning. She froze, shocked to realize how close she had been to coming again. Half wishing she hadn't caught herself in time.
Four volunteers “saw to” the class of twelve, not including those students not permitted to take part. The leaders (Carolyn wasn't sure if they were tutors or instructors or older students) were dressed alike, in textured aprons, and by the end of class those aprons glistened with the juices of the willing victims. As the bell sounded dismissal, the volunteers stood and bowed, and one of the students rose and bowed in return, reddened ass turned to face them. A laugh ran through the room, and Carolyn saw one of the apron-clad spankers motion to the impudent student. She sobbed deep in her throat, wishing.
Her sleep was plagued with dreams, of her tutor “seeing to” her, of being corked, of coming until she could come no more, finally satisfied. Morning found her still tired, stretched too full to breathe in comfort, and dreading the day. The note delivered to her by an attendant at breakfast didn't help. In strong masculine handwriting, it read, “Oil yourself before each class, meal, and bed.” Her hands shook with fear and shamed anticipation. The attendant handed her a bottle.
Oh, God. Please. She didn't know what she would have asked for-for the torment to end, or just to be allowed to come.
* * * *
Carolyn fell into bed, tears leaking from her eyes. The day had been unbearable! She'd failed a quiz in class, which merited punishment. She'd been unable to complete an assignment, too busy with her suffering, and earned another punishment. She'd been excused from a class on self-pleasure, which made her furious, and her protests had earned her yet another punishment. All of which were deferred, since tutors had first claim on their students-and one teacher added on extra “demerits” for the delay! Thankful it was finished, she buried her face in her pillow and tried to sleep. Her clit throbbed with need, her ass clenched with the same pulse, and she lay wakeful long into the night.
Too early in the morning, she was prodded out of bed by another student, and plodded groggily toward the showers, even the pain of her overnight plugging unable to fully wake her. Breakfast passed in a daze; she could not eat, too filled already. Morning classes, too, went by in a blur. She thought she might have seen an odd glance or two directed her way, but was really too tired to care. The moment arrived at last for her to present herself to her tutor. She stood before the office door, staring blearily at the wood-grain as she waited for him to answer her knock.
"In,” he barked. She entered to find him standing, an attendant at his side. “Strip,” he commanded, and she obeyed without protest. The attendant placed a narrow collar around her neck, and fastened a leash to its end. She flushed a bit, humiliated, but said nothing. Juices flowed down her leg, and she bit her lip, wondering how she could still have the energy to be aroused. The plug felt like a club within her, impossibly large, conquering.
Her mary janes were removed, replaced with high stiletto heels. The attendant tugged on her leash, and she stumbled after. Her tutor followed behind, loudly enjoying the view; to him, he explained, the bruising added interest to her flesh. Her thighs glistened, and he laughed at the proof she enjoyed the situation. The blush creeping down her back excited him, too, he said.