Bertha, in Discipline, helped unlock it. She commanded Jennifer to assume the pose Carolyn had taken the day before. When she proved incapable, Bertha suggested that Carolyn help. Between them, they got the young woman bent over backwards, tits in the air, skin flaming as the class murmured and jeered. Bertha slapped the bottoms of Jennifer's breasts with a rubber flail, more noise and shock than pain, suited for beginners. Jennifer, of course, wailed and cried. But then came the finish, when the punished had to give thanks. Carolyn prodded her to that, insisting, and Jennifer obeyed. “Thank you, Mistress Bertha, for your attention. Your attentions."
Carolyn was close enough to feel the sudden rush of heat; even if she hadn't been, she'd have seen the change in Jennifer's eyes. The shift as the soft welcoming thighs pushed and rubbed together. The parting of those perfect lips.
Got it! She needs to be forced into, what, gratitude? Into admitting that this is what she needs. Thank you for treating me like the little girl I am. Thank you for taking the trouble to care for me. Oh, can I work with that! Little girl, you are going to crawl to me, beg for my attentions, and thank me for your pain.
The day seemed to go on for a week. But at last, she was free to give Jennifer back to her tutor, seek her own for a brief conference before bed. He took one look at her face and told her to go “cool down"; an ice-water enema to quench her fires. Even the cramping didn't dampen her need, as she thought of what she wanted to do to Jennifer.
* * * *
"Oh, Carolyn, help!” Body held as still as possible, which wasn't very, Jennifer rose from the bed when Carolyn entered the room. “This shirt, there's no way I can put this on."
Carolyn felt the fabric and grinned. It was a rough weave, worn only to irritate. She waited, and Jennifer explained. “Those things, yesterday, on my,” she looked down at her breasts. “They're swollen now, and too sensitive. I can-” She cut herself off again. “I tried, really I did, but it made me scream. What am I going to do? We're already late!"
Laughing inside, thinking of all the things this girl was going to be thankful for, Carolyn made a show of thinking hard, gnawing on her lip. “You could lick them,” she said at last, with an air of sudden inspiration. “You could reach, I think."
"L-lick them? These? My…” That characteristic quick flush of hers came and went.
"You really will have to learn to say the word. Nipples. It's okay. Go on. Say it."
"Nipples.” This time the flush came, and stayed.
"Good. Think how happy your tutor will be, the punishments you'll be avoiding. Words are much easier than strikes, you know. So, go on now, lick them. It'll feel better; you'll see."
Carolyn had to lean back against the wall, her knees went so weak at the sight. A young Marilyn suckling her own distended nipples, first one, then the other, alternating, gentle smile in her eyes. A simple, innocent pleasure, untainted by lust.
For now. “Doesn't that feel better?” Carolyn husked.
"Oh, yes,” Jennifer sighed. She looked up, her thanks plain to see. “I was wrong about you. I thought you were mean. But you're a friend."
"Sometimes friends have to be cruel. You know that, right?"
A shaky nod.
"And when we are, we feel like maybe our friends won't like us anymore."
Frantic head-shaking. Carolyn couldn't blame her. In her months at the Academy, Jennifer hadn't made any friends, too busy with her own pains, her own concerns.
She almost felt guilty for what she was trying to do, but a long look at that body, sex written in every line, and her resolve hardened again. “Especially when we do things in public that our friends might not really like. It makes us feel like our friends just want us to go away. Even when we know we're doing the right thing, it's really hard.” A soft look, a touch. “You know, it'd help a lot if you could tell me you know I'm just doing what's best for you. If you could thank me, like you did Mistress Bertha yesterday."
"Oh, I do! I really do! I know you're just trying to help, and I'm ever so grateful. But right now, we're going to be late! Oh, I'm going to get you in trouble. I'm so sorry!” And Jennifer raced around the room collecting her clothes, shrugging into the shirt with barely a wince.
Carolyn flagged an attendant, scribbled a brief note, and hastened Jennifer down to the dining hall. The tutor appeared just before the changing bell. He nodded, and Carolyn took a deep breath.
"Remember what you told me earlier, okay?"
Jennifer blanched and dropped her fork.
"Carolyn.” The tutor said nothing else. Jennifer sat, unmoving, as Carolyn rose.
"Hsst. Get up, this is your tutor. You don't sit in front of him!"
A soft “Oh!” and Jennifer scrambled to her feet.
"Sir, your handiwork.” Carolyn smiled widely, took a breath to prolong her own enjoyment, and then she reached over and tore open Jennifer's blouse.
Tears began to roll down Jennifer's eyes, but she made no sound nor move of protest. The tutor peered close, shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, and turned away. A few feet on, he paused. “Correct her,” and he claimed his seat.
Carolyn looked around the room, knowing she had every eye. Well, the scene she'd set did. There was a banana on the table; she reached over, handed it to Jennifer. “You remember how you used your tool?"
"Here?” An agonized sound, half whisper, half shriek.
"It's better than being punished, isn't it?” She spoke through a smile, as softly as she could and yet be sure Jennifer would hear. “Remember Jack's hands, and mine, and do what you have to do. Or your tutor will punish you, and he doesn't look very patient to me."
Jiggling with her sobs, Jennifer bent to her task. When the students nearest began to cheer, Carolyn frowned them into silence, but they would have quieted soon anyway. It was rare to see a woman struggle so toward a climax; in the Academy, most were hair-triggered from constant need. Sweat broke out over Jennifer's body, gilding her in the light; she moaned softly, or groaned beneath her breath. Partly out of pity, partly for the sake of the show, Carolyn leaned in and whispered. “If you don't push that all the way up, he's going to do it for you."
Jennifer's coos became grunts as she shoved her curved fruit phallus high inside, finding the g-spot with predictable results. The students applauded while she was still coming, belly rippling like the ocean waves, and she threw up her hands to hide her face.
Oh, can't have that, little girl. Carolyn cleared her throat, still speaking softly. “Get up, take a bow. Toward your tutor, go on, you know you can.” Still impaled on the fruit, Jennifer bobbed, head bowed. “Properly. Go on. If you don't finish, it doesn't count. You don't want to be punished, do you? Or for someone else to be?” She batted her eyes.
Jennifer pulled back her shoulders and bowed again, her face turned toward her tutor, eyes open wide.
Gotcha! You'll do things to help your friends that you wouldn't do on your own. So, now to strike your spark. “I hope you understand,” she said in an intimate tone, “why I did what I did."
"Oh, of course I do,” Jennifer cried, one hand impulsively laid on Carolyn's shoulder. “You're just trying to keep me safe, and teach me. Thank you."
"Even for that?” Carolyn nodded slyly at the banana.
"Oh!” Blushing, Jennifer reached out her hand.
"No, leave it there until the bell rings. You really don't know the rules yet, do you?"
"I have to keep it inside?” Her cheeks flushed hotter. She shifted in her seat, pressing her legs closed, obviously aroused. Carolyn pinched a thigh sharply, making her gasp. “Oh, right. I forgot. Legs open, all the time.” She looked away, shifting again, grinding in her seat. “Thank you."