They reached a stairway; the attendant led her forward, each step a new and unique torture. Up they went to a small room, uncarpeted, bare.
"Kneel."
She knelt, trying to keep her ass from resting on her heels.
"Tell me what you are feeling."
The words rushed forth. “Please. Please let me come!"
"What,” he chuckled, “no protestation? No ‘burning brand'? Are you telling me you've learned to enjoy being plugged? Already?"
"Oh, God! No. I hate it. You know that. It's wrong, it's unnatural. But I need to come, please. You have to let me! Plee-ease!” Tears streaked her face, fell into her opened mouth; she didn't care. She was naked, had just been in plain of view of anyone who'd cared to look, though she had, in fact, seen no one. She was on an honest-to-God leash, just like a dog. She was plugged. And none of it mattered at all, if she could just come.
"Aren't you going to ask me to get it out of you? Accuse me of being a pervert? Beg to be set free?” He still sounded gently amused, his voice almost smoky. She imagined it touching her, and shook with need.
He waited, as did she. She couldn't think of anything to say. “Well,” he sighed. “I suppose you can remove the plug.” She remained still. “Didn't you hear me? Remove the plug.” She bent forward to obey. “No. Spread your legs wider.” She did, of course. “Do it from that position."
It took some effort, but she managed at last. It felt larger, with her positioned so nearly upright; she winced as she tugged it out. His laughter made her breath catch, her insides clench, and the pop when her asshole let go made her flush hot with shame.
"Put it back,” he said. She sighed; she'd expected it. But she hadn't thought it would be so easy to obey. Her sphincter opened almost eagerly to the intruder, stretching wide in welcome, holding tight to the narrower base.
"Tell me you love it.” He leaned in, whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her skin, making her shiver. “Tell me how much you enjoy it."
"I do,” she sobbed. “God, I love it. It's horrible, it hurts, but it's fantastic! Please, please let me come. I need it. I need it so much…” She babbled, and knew that she babbled, and didn't give a damn. If it made her look like a fool, then so be it. All she wanted was an orgasm, or ten, or twenty, and she would do whatever she had to if she was allowed to come.
"Take out the plug.” She actually thought of protesting. But she obeyed. “There.” He pointed to the center of the room. There was a stool, with an object rising up. A dildo, set back from center, pointing straight. “I'd suggest you use your mouth first, then take your seat.” She rushed to the stool, eager to comply. It was shaped differently than the plug, almost a cone, narrowest at the tip, then widening at the base. She laved it with her tongue, then tried to climb onto the stool. Her heels gave her trouble, and the attendant came to help.
"Thank you,” she said, holding onto robed shoulders. They quivered beneath her hands; she was too involved to notice. Aiming herself with great care, she began her descent, and the blunt tip of the dildo parted her sphincter, making her sigh. She lowered herself an inch, clutching at the attendant, then another, and another until she was halfway down. Her tutor snapped his fingers, and the attendant suddenly stepped back. She shrieked as, her support gone, she slid down inexorably toward the stool. Her heels could gain no purchase to assist. Inevitable as death, gravity pulled her, stretching her wider than she had ever been stretched.
She whined. Trying to hold herself closed did nothing to stem the movement. Leaning desperately forward halted it, for a bit. The tip bit like a spear, though; she straightened lest she harm herself, and the slide down continued, halting with an inch left to go before the seat.
She was stretched as wide as she would go, but still gravity insisted. Every muscle held tight, as she balanced precariously. Eyes and mouth wide in sympathy, she stared at her tutor. “You may come,” he told her.
Her hands were gripping the seat. If she let go to stimulate herself, she would be further impaled. If she didn't, how then could she come? Stupid question. She lifted herself as best she could and slid carefully down again. Short, choppy movements, but enough-her body clenched, froze, quivered, exploded. Clit dancing in the breeze, vagina empty, ass more than filled, she writhed on the stool in climax, and poured forth her thanks. As her muscles tensed and released, she slid gently down to the stool, until the aftermath of her pleasure found her breathless and widely, thoroughly, plugged.
"How do you feel?"
She smiled, basking in the afterglow. “Mm."
"That's not an answer.” His voice was mild, and, as always, made her insides melt.
"I feel … wonderful."
"You enjoy the sensation?” He was purring; she opened her eyes. She was nearly asleep, but wanted to see him smile. His expression was fiercely triumphant, and her eyes went wide. Oh, no! What did I say? What will he do now?
"Tell me how you feel."
"I … am scared.” She laughed nervously, and gasped at the ripples echoing through her form; she'd never realized that laughter moved so many muscles, or just which ones. “I feel … stretched … too widely. I think I'm stuck. And I'm afraid of what you'll do next, what you'll make me do.” It was all true. But they both knew it wasn't the whole truth; he motioned for her to go on. “I hate that you make me do … that,” she looked away, “and I hate that it feels good, but you know it does."
"I make you do what?” Her blush started at the hairline and spread down. “Say it,” he commanded. She swallowed, shook her head. “Say it."
Your place is to obey. She licked her lips. “It's unnatural. Things aren't supposed to go into … there. The anus. The asshole.” She sighed, looked away. “You make me put things in my ass, and I enjoy it. There! I said it."
"Yes, you did. You may come now.” Her body clenched. With no memory of having decided a thing, she found herself sliding up and down the pole. The friction and the stretching sped her quickly on her way, and she screamed her climax to anyone who cared.
And again, when he told her that he intended to plug her in public, murmuring of all the eyes locked on her ass. He made her beg him to do it, and she cried as she came. He was almost tender, then, as he helped her to get down.
"Rest now."
She folded to the floor, not even bothering to move toward a wall, and closed her eyes. The attendant had to wake her when it was time to go.
* * * *
Still tired, and stumbling on the unaccustomed heels, she walked behind the robed individual who held her leash. Distracted by pain and shame and arousal, she didn't quite realize she was being led down a hallway toward the dining hall until she saw the doors open before her, students and instructors turning to stare as they approached. “No,” she whispered, turning her head toward her tutor, “please, no.” He ignored her, and the attendant just tugged on the leash until she had to follow. Tears poured down her face as fast as her juices flowed down her legs as she walked the aisle to the dais. She felt every gaze as a touch. God, he's going to do it!
He's going to do what I asked him to. Show everyone what a-what he does to me.
"Carolyn, confess your transgressions.” He smiled at her, the use of her name striking her as another torment. Not enough to be displayed, punished, she would be identified as well. She sobbed, but complied. There was no escape, she knew.
"I protested my tutor's attentions, not once, but many times. I yelled at him, used vulgar language. I forgot my place.” There were other transgressions, of course, but she felt that he was only concerned with her actions toward him. If not, she was sure he would inform her. Painfully. I can't believe this! She shook, shame and more. How can I need to come again? What's wrong with me?