That small part of her mind that so often found life amusing whispered, The same thing wrong with them all. Or right. There was something there, a safety-but before she could figure it out, her tutor spoke.
"And what have you to say for yourself?” He purred the words, silken invitation to self-damnation. Her heart skipped a beat. His voice always did things to her, even now. Especially? There was no escape, only obedience. Nothing she could do. No. There is one thing you can do: you can say what he wants to hear. What he wants them all to hear you say.
She knew what that was, though she wasn't sure how she knew. What she said wouldn't change the outcome. Her only choice was whether to obey the command he had not given, only implied. To expose her feelings, as well as her body. What do I have to say for myself?
"Nothing. I have no excuse, sir. Please, correct me, teach me the error of my ways.” She wept, but her voice was steady, exhaustion masquerading as calm. Better to cooperate, she thought, and be done with it. And maybe it would please him enough that he would let her come. Her clit throbbed excitement and agreement; her sphincter fluttered on emptiness. It felt good to be able to close that ring of muscle, and yet … She shivered as her juices flowed, shamed and terribly aroused.
"On the table, and kneel.” The attendant positioned her, then hooked her leash to the underside of the table, forcing her head down. Her ass was raised high, offered to whatever might befall. She saw a familiar pole, tube wrapped around it, and groaned. A public enema, my God!
The nozzle was forced into her body, making her cry out in pain and an odd sort of relief. She had felt empty, walking unplugged to the hall. She moaned as it was pressed home, and her ass wiggled invitingly. The blush spread over her body, and she reddened from head to toe. The audience, silent until now, began to whisper. Fluid seeped within her.
The attendant massaged her stomach as she was filled, more and more liquid finding its way into her bowels, stretching her stomach until she looked pregnant and past her due date. She panted, breath forced from her as her body made way for the watery intrusion. The cramping this time was intense, sharper pains and a slight burning. She shook with pain. And her clit danced.
At a nod from her tutor, the attendant detached her from the tubes, leaving the nozzle within her. “Speak, if you will,” she heard, and began to beg. Her ears burned with the shame as she heard herself asking, not that the nozzle be removed, but that she be allowed to come. Her tutor laughed, and she felt a single sharp smack against her mound. The orgasm was immediate, and left her shaking. Powerful, but unsatisfying. She needed more.
The attendant detached her leash from the table, and pulled her down. She gasped with pain as fluid pushed against the nozzle, and the attendant tugged sharply downward until she fell to her knees, then forward. She was to crawl, she assumed. Shrugging inside, wondering if she had finally reached a saturation point for humiliation, she followed the attendant, crawling throughout the room, passing every table, displaying herself to all who cared to look. Tears flowed down her face unheeded.
When she had completed her circuit, the attendant pulled her back to the dais, back up onto the table. A plexiglass shield had been added to the display. She was posed over a basin, and the nozzle pulled free. She flushed again, aghast, as she voided her bowels before everyone. And then was hosed off. That finished, she was posed again, leashed, and handed a thick plastic phallus. “As you did with the plug,” her tutor told her, as she looked at it in fear. Its shaft was as thick as the dildo on the stool had been at its base, and long, longer than she thought could possibly fit. But he was implacable, and she obeyed, sucking the fake cock to wet it, then placing it at her rear. She winced in anticipation, pressed in. And whined high in her throat as it stretched her wide.
So long! she thought. So thick! She shuddered as she pushed, feeling the flare of the head, the gradual thickening of the shaft, textured bumps and ridges. She wondered if it would ever end, and part of her wished it would not, the intrusion so like intercourse, but more intense. Panting, she spasmed, mini-orgasms presaging ecstasy. She reached the base at last, and stopped, gasping for breath, then began to pull it out, miming the action of a real cock.
In and out she pistoned the tool, pulling out the length of the shaft, pressing it home, faster and faster as her orgasm built. Some students began to egg her on, shouting encouragement, chanting, but she barely heard. She was completely focused on her need. The noises she was making would have embarrassed her if she had noticed them, high-pitched yips and dog-like barks and moaning. Her body thrashed from side to side, ass flying, arousing many in her audience, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to continue.
"Stop,” her tutor said. She froze, unbelieving. “Tell me, are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes,” she whispered.
"Aloud, please.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Closing her eyes, wishing him to Hell, she repeated herself. And again. “Beg,” he said.
"Please, sir, please. Let me come.” Beyond shame now, hanging seconds away from her pleasure, she pleaded. “Let them see me come.” That might sway him.
He turned to the audience. “This girl, Carolyn, thinks anal penetration is unnatural. A sin, even.” He changed his pose, the tone of his voice, suddenly girlish. “It's disgusting to stick anything up your ass.” Back to himself, all confidence and strength. “Or so she says.” Jeers and laughter met his words, and he held up a hand for silence. “I decided to teach her to enjoy the unnatural. How do you think I did?” He drawled the last sentence, confident in their approval, and they gave it loudly, whistling and clapping and shouting praise. He turned to Carolyn then. “Come, girl. Show them how much you love it.” And she did, frantically moving the dildo in and out, withdrawing it fully and forcing it back inside, orgasms tearing through her, melting one into another. She came to the sounds of the cheers, the laughter, collapsing onto the table at last, still coming, the dildo buried completely within her. Aftershocks moved through her even as dinner was served, and she lay there, naked and quivering and sated at last.
* * * *
"Rise and shine, Carolyn. Your public awaits.” His voice, beautifully deep and dark, woke her from her doze. She blinked, for a moment not knowing where she was. Memory flooded back, and she blushed even before she opened her eyes to see every gaze upon her. She moaned her embarrassment, screwed her eyes shut, turned her face away. “Now, now, Carolyn. You know the rules. Display.” Very quietly he added, “Before you drown us all,” and she flushed to the roots of her hair, feeling the truth of his statement.
What happened to that lovely numb feeling? She struggled to her knees. She kept her eyes closed, but it didn't help. She knew everyone was watching. She posed, ass high, knees spread, feeling cool air and hot gazes and shame and arousal and a dildo buried in her rear.
"Reach back and pull the dildo out, slowly."
She obeyed as if in a dream, slow withdrawal a pleasure and a torment. Gasping softly as the flared head pressed against her sphincter, she sighed as the muscle closed. “Now clean it.” Still refusing to open her eyes, she swallowed and brought the tool to her mouth. Should I be grateful for the enema, she thought wryly, or just disgusted? She concentrated on the dildo, trying unsuccessfully to forget the audience enjoying her shame. “Enough,” he said. “Now say thank you to your fans for their attention."