"Are you really saying what I think I just heard?” Mocking tones, but no cruelty; Carolyn didn't even blush. She just nodded, a slow, languorous gesture, and tilted her hips.
"Tell me. Properly."
"Sir, it's wonderful. I am filled, as you have taught me to be. And to enjoy being. I love having things stuck up my ass, I was made to be plugged. You had the wisdom to see that, and to teach me."
"Flattery? How quaint. Do you remember what you first told me, when I had you plugged?” Now she blushed, at that memory. “Tell me again what you said."
"I told you it, the plug, felt like a burning brand."
"So, if I ordered you to take a stick up your ass, would you?"
"Of course, sir. And thank you for it, too."
"And if it were on fire?"
"My place is to obey."
"Very good.” He patted her ass. “You may come.” And just like that, with no other stimulation, no thrusting, no kissing, no writhing, she exploded into ecstasy.
He sent her to class still surrounding the dildo; she went with pride. More than by his latest plug, she was filled with hope.
Will he cork me soon?
* * * *
The teacher she had “insulted” hadn't told her what her punishment was going to be, but some of the students had given her odd looks as she followed the attendant toward her doom. She knew what that meant: someone had indulged in whimsy. It was enough to make her blood run cold-the instructors were not above inflicting a fair amount of pain for the sake of some joke, and they often collaborated. And her tutor had made a point of telling her he knew what she had said.
As scared as she was, she was also so wet she sloshed with every step. He would be so proud. She tried to remember everything he'd said during that session. Nothing seemed like a clue.
"Ooh.” Carolyn stopped in the doorway of the tiled room, shock freezing her in place. She hadn't seen Sherry for a few days, and had wondered what new torments were being visited on her friend, but had never imagined this!
The young woman hung suspended from a sort of hammock made of webbing, tubes hanging from the ceiling, disappearing into her ass. Two of them. Some odd cup-like structures enveloped her breasts; a water bottle was hanging by her head.
Her head hung low, fiery hair veiling her face. Her stomach was distended. And as Carolyn watched, she began to buck. Like a half-broken steed protesting a rider, she threw her body back and forth, but there was no escape. Whirring sounds echoed in the tiled chamber, as did Sherry's sobs and cries.
And then the whirring ceased, and Sherry fell motionless again, and the attendants prodded Carolyn into the room. One bleary red eye crept open, and Sherry bent her lips into a grin. “Hey, kid, what are you in for?"
"The usual, I guess. And you?"
"Definitely not."
An attendant slapped Carolyn, almost gently, on the ass, encouraging her not to dawdle. Obediently, she let herself be strapped onto a slant-board, manipulated and teased almost to orgasm. And then they were alone.
"I was stupid,” Sherry sighed. “My tutor's been working on teaching me milking, but I'm just not much good at it. I was frustrated, and very, very horny, and I made a crack about milking being for cows. So,” she shook in her webbing, “here I am. Behind is some sort of devil's brew of herbs and hormones, and up front we have the twins. Constant suction all over my tits, plus stronger pulls on my nipples a lot of the time.” She stopped for a sip of water from the bottle by her head. Voice shaking a bit, she said, “I think they're going to turn me into a cow. And I think…” She shuddered. “Here it comes again."
Carolyn watched, wide-eyed and fascinated, as the distended belly shrank, then stretched again. Sherry's breasts were completely covered by the contraption, but her shoulders moved back and forth in time with the mechanical whirr. She sobbed and moaned and pled for release, for help, for a break. And then, shuddering, she came. A strange orgasm, slow and strong.
Carolyn felt a rush of jealousy. But when it was over, and Sherry hung limp in her bonds, all Carolyn could do was stare in something approaching awe. Her friend glowed all over, skin as rich as cream, hair shining in the light like copper. She seemed softer somehow, silken.
"Wow."
Sherry opened one eye. “My breasts are filling. I know it, they're turning me into a cow. And, God, I can't wait until they milk me."
An attendant stepped into the room and turned to Carolyn. The gloved hands held a very large enema syringe.
The board to which she was strapped was angled, her head a little below the level of her feet. Recent experience had taught her that meant she'd be there awhile. Breasts bumpy in the chill air, she stared at the approaching figure, wondering what it would be this time.
There'd been heat and cold, something that smelled like fresh grass and left her wired for hours, stinging mint-scented soap and something that blurred the edges of the world for a time. She'd been left lying for what felt like days, might have been hours, been plugged and made to walk around the room, been introduced to a machine that flushed her insides like an internal shower.
But her tutor never let her get bored with repetition. So she shivered as she lay there, open, helpless, afraid. And aroused, as she always seemed to be. In odd quiet moments she marveled that sex had so escaped her notice before, when she'd been a small-town beauty, and then a small-time wife.
If she'd known then what she did now, what would have changed? But those thoughts quickly faded from her mind. Even in the midst of being punished, hurt or humiliated, she was aroused. She didn't want anything to be different, except that she always, always, wanted to be allowed to come. Even now, as she waited for the syringe, wondering what concoction would soon make its way inside.
Sherry began to stir. Carolyn couldn't see her, but the noises were easy enough to understand. The whirring as she was suckled, the soft liquid sounds as she was emptied and refilled, the moans and cries as she came again. The groaning, climax almost more torment than release. And the yearning for more, even so. Always, more.
Carolyn gasped as the nozzle was pushed into her anus, thrust hard. The feeling was always startling, always new. A sudden change, her body adjusting to something, someone, shifting obediently, surrendering.
It pushed in, hard and demanding, a plastic shaft, and she shook, needing to come, bound too tightly to move the slightest bit. It traveled deep into her, defining bits of herself she could only feel when they were being used, and she could do nothing but endure. And smile, and sigh, and revel in the feeling. And try desperately not to spasm, not to climax.
The attendant fucked her with it a few minutes more, then thrust it fully in, to the bottom of the barrel. Her sphincter clamped down, holding it in place. And then the plunger, and fluid heat.
Warm, warmer than her flesh, it crept within. She thought it quite nice for a second, until it started to itch. In a heartbeat, she was shrieking, cries bouncing off the walls. The attendant patted her clit softly and walked away. Leaving her itching, tied too tightly to move, feeling like she had poison ivy on the inside of her skin.
And needing, always, needing to climax again. But the itching distracted her too much even to think, so she didn't consider using the milking techniques she had been taught to give herself some relief. Even if she had, it was doubtful she could have succeeded. Every muscular contraction made the itching that much worse.
The whirring came again, and Sherry, too, began shrieking. A chorus of half-pleasured torment rang from the walls. Sometimes there were words; they begged their tutors for release, for relief, forgiveness for whatever their transgressions. Sometimes there were only cries.