"Indeed, no. Very well, then. Report tomorrow morning, first bell.” Carolyn rose to leave. “Oh, and Carolyn? Since you seem so very comfortable on stage these days, I'm sure walking back to your room naked but for your plugs won't bother you at all. Take the long way."
She blushed, hands shaking as she unbuttoned her blouse. Her nipples were crinkled and tight. Always.
* * * *
Carolyn closed her eyes, and composed herself for sleep. The double plugs always seemed to grow just before bed, larger still first thing in the morning; it was hard for her not to squeeze around them, though she knew where that would lead. But her tutor had a number of ingenious deterrents to keep her from coming; tonight she was sleeping naked, spread-eagled, in the corridor. She could probably still come, tightening her inner muscles around the plugs, but there was no way she could do it unobserved, with proctors walking the halls, making their rounds. So she had to endure, aroused as she'd been since she came to this place.
And wonder what new sensation the morning would bring.
* * * *
Her dreams were no match for the reality. Naked and freshly shaved, Carolyn and Jack were led by leashes to the dining hall. Jack wore a smile, Carolyn her usual blushes, as they followed their attendants to the stage. Carolyn's tutor made a pretty little speech, about the two “aspiring directors,” who had staged their own show without permission, and who would now serve a more useful purpose than “mere entertainment."
"They shall shine brighter than any movie star, provide enlightenment for us all!” He snapped his fingers, and the attendants raised a curtain, revealing a frame. It was obviously made for two.
Jack laughed, drawing all eyes to her. “Thank you, my master,” she whispered, and kneeled. Carolyn stared; she'd never realized who Jack's tutor was. And she had little idea of what was going on. What was the frame for, what happened when she was in it? What did he mean, enlightenment?
Master?
The tutor leaned in, kissed Jack's forehead, helped her to rise, and escorted her to the frame. Jack arranged herself with obvious familiarity, not even groaning as she stretched and strained. The attendants strapped her in, her limbs as far from one another as possible, back arched so that her head was nearly to her heels. And then they spun the cage, and helped Carolyn in.
When she was fastened tight, groaning from the pain, the attendants collected harnesses and strapped them around the prisoners’ waists. And then came candelabras, specially designed. Instead of bases, they ended in dildos, inserted with no ceremony at all; the waist straps held the frame a bit away from skin. Not too very far. Carolyn shivered as she saw the candlewicks so close to her breasts; squeaked high in her throat when the one in back was fastened on. More candles were placed at her hands and feet, knees and elbows, and around Jack's, of course. And then they all were lit, and the torment began.
It quickly became apparent that endurance would be key. The first time Carolyn shook, wax dripped from a candle, hit her thigh, and made her jump. That spilled more wax, which made her try to bend away, but that motion brought her breasts too close to flame.
And then the vibrations began, the dildos activated by some unseen switch. Gentle at first, then stronger, then undeniable. Carolyn held herself as still as she possibly could, the threat of burning motivation to resist. But orgasm called, and her body struggled to answer. She gave in at last, screaming as the wax fell, riding the pain to ecstasy.
On the other side of the frame, Jack danced her own climaxes. She hadn't even bothered to resist, her wax-splattered body writhing away.
The students ate their dinner to the shivering light, leaving for evening classes or study only after the last candle guttered out. Jack and Carolyn hung in the frame, panting, smiling. Exhausted, but not quite satisfied.
Their tutor had taught them too well for that.
CHAPTER TEN
Carolyn stood with her tray in her hands, looking around the hall. Jack was out on assignment somewhere, had left the day after their “candlelit supper"; Sherry was nowhere to be seen. Tom was at a largely untenanted table, grinning; she wouldn't sit there.
Jennifer was alone. Nodding to herself, Carolyn chose her seat.
"Go away! Please! Wasn't,” she glanced toward the stage, “enough? Or did you like being strapped down and burned like that?"
Carolyn chuckled at the question, knowing the answer was both yes and no. It had been well orchestrated, she hadn't really been burned, just scalded a touch by the wax. The marks had barely lasted a day. To Jennifer she said nothing but, “Eat. Starving yourself won't do anyone any good.” She picked up her own fork to set an example, but didn't taste a bite, too busy staring at Jennifer. Even the slope of her shoulders was pure Marilyn. Soft and delicate and begging to be claimed.
Looking around the room, she spied her tutor, his glance on her table, but not on her. She saw red, remembering a day not long before. She'd been walking down the hall, trying to balance on five-inch heels, her posture further distorted by her new plug, extending deep within her and curling back toward her spine. She'd been tottering, much to her tutor's amusement, and both their arousal. And then his eyes had left her, ranging down the hall. To the sobbing pitiful little wretch he stared at now, that same look of lust in his eyes.
She yearned to punish, not her tutor, but the object of his stare. How dare she take his attention away from me? But Jennifer was doing nothing but trying to choke down a meal. Carolyn gritted her teeth behind a fake friendly smile, and tried to get the younger woman to talk.
When that didn't work, she went back to giving soft orders phrased as advice. “Spread your legs before some one sees you. Unless you want to be punished again.” And later, “Drink your water. You need the fluid, all the crying you do.” A brief flush stained the pale skin, fading almost instantly away. Carolyn had to bite her lip to keep from moaning her pride and pleasure at the sight. Blush, little girl, and shake. You have no idea what I'm going to do to you.
In truth, she didn't know herself, just that Jennifer was going to pay for the way Carolyn's tutor looked at her.
Only a few minutes remained before the bell to end the meal; Carolyn looked around for some way to keep Jennifer in the hall. A passing student caught her eyes; she flagged him down and sent him off for a milkshake. Students weren't supposed to order each other around, but quite often did, exchanging favors, trading tasks, or just exerting their wills. Carolyn had guessed he wouldn't refuse her; all the school was aware of the game she and Jack had begun, and were curious to know what would happen next.
He was back in a wink with a chocolate shake in a fountain glass, topped with a puff of whipped cream and a cherry. Carolyn smiled and nodded her thanks as he set the dessert, with straw and long-handled sundae spoon, in front of Jennifer.
The bell rang.
"Do you have to be anywhere?"
Jennifer bit her lip, shook her head, face downcast.
"Look at people when they talk to you. It's in the rules, remember? Now, since you don't have class this evening, why don't you just sit here and drink your shake?"
Wide crystal eyes gleaming with incipient tears, Jennifer nodded, pursed perfect lips around the straw, and began to suck. Carolyn had to look away herself, before she came.
Oh, my. What has become of me? In the few short months she'd been at the Academy, Carolyn's responses had changed quite a bit, humiliation now as arousing to her as it was hated, anal stimulation often a positive joy; this, though, was still strange to her. She thrilled at the thought of this woman obeying her command.