"Oh,” she called, trying for a proper volume, “my precious bees-come hither, and partake of my royal honey.” She flourished Cleopatra's dildo in the air.
Whistles and cheers and catcalls from the audience made her blush, but hidden behind the mask, she decided she didn't care. They wanted a scene from history, that's what they would get. And I'll bet no one ever told Cleo she couldn't come!
Even when she realized the buzzing wasn't mechanical, it didn't stop her. She straddled the stone, trying to angle her body so her tutor would have the best view, canted her hips, and set the tool between her lips. It really did vibrate, softly. She teased herself, and her audience, for a while, then slowly pressed it home, sighing in pleasure as she was filled. And out, all the way, so they could it glisten, and back again.
Then faster, and harder, and more, and the buzzing increased-and a bee not trapped in the toy descended from somewhere and stung her thigh.
Her scream, half pain, half climax, broke the crowd up, and she didn't blame them one bit.
* * * *
The sun had set; attendants brought lamps and lanterns, and a few living candelabras were prodded into place. Carolyn knelt at her tutor's side, unhooded this time, and watched as one student or another was tested. And then an odd low table was brought into the light.
Carolyn moaned when she saw it-she knew what it was for, though she had never seen it before. Knees there, hands there, and, oh, God, he'll have perfect access. She slanted a look up at him.
He smiled back at her. “Carolyn."
There was no need for further command; she knee-walked forward, climbed awkwardly onto the strange frame, and settled into place. The top felt familiar, like any desk fitted for sex, cool polished wood beneath her breasts, padded leather hand-grips. The oddities began at her waist: a leather mount held her ass high, there were cups for her knees that kept her spread and separate, and the leg supports were individual. The posture was not only perfect for corking or whipping, but there was no way she'd be able to stimulate herself, not even any way to rub her clit against anything.
She didn't need any help-was close to coming just at the thought of finally having him. The familiar chill of lube helped, a little shock to cut through mounting pleasure.
"Back.” She pushed, opening to his finger, thick and firm and warm beneath the lube. “Stay."
She quivered at his quick withdrawal, longing to clench down, to keep him in, wanting to please him, wanting his cock.
"Speak."
"Oh, God, please. Please. Cork me! Fuck my ass!"
From somewhere beyond the lights, a murmur. “Not elegant.” She heard, groaned-failed that test-but couldn't think of other words.
He laughed, and his voice took on that velvet tone she loved. “Surely you've learned some manners in your time here?"
"Please, sir.” Words. Now? She thought back to his first show with her. “You taught me to enjoy. Let others see how well I have learned."
For her ears only, he prompted, “Enjoy what?"
"I was wrong, sir, when I came here. I thought,” she swallowed, still embarrassed to speak the words, “I thought anal penetration was wrong, but nothing you do could be wrong. You taught me to love being plugged.
"And, oh, I want to learn more!"
Scattered applause from the audience; she didn't care. She turned her head, trying to look behind her, where he stood. Was it enough? Will he?
"Close your eyes,” he said, and grasped her ass cheeks. She felt his thumbs at her cleft, his fingers spread almost to her hips. Then a slick heat unlike anything she had ever known. His cock, knocking to come in. Amazing, how different it felt there than it would have just an inch forward. Hotter, harder, huge. She thought of a word she had only learned days before: Indomitable. His cock pressed at her ass hole, indomitable.
Perhaps she said it; he chuckled. “Thank you.” And then he pressed harder, and she felt her sphincter stretch and stretch and stretch … He didn't stop until the flare of his head had passed.
"Oh-h-h.” No. Not yet. Not. Yet. Her body tightened around him; she felt his pulse in counterpoint to her own, little thrummings like a snare shaking through her. Tiny little orgasmic shakings trying to blend into one great climax. But that was not allowed, and she so wanted to feel him all the way inside her. If I fail now, he might not. Hold still. Don't breathe. Just wait.
He moved-back. Pulled out, then pushed forward again, head and half the shaft in a single stroke.
She clamped down as hard as she could, desperate to stop the climax, but to no avail. As he pulled out again, she screamed, and kept screaming as he pushed deep into her, forcing his way past the spasms to send her higher than she had ever been. His pulse beat strong in his cock, heat and strength and that different rhythm a sensation she could never have dreamed.
And it did not stop. He stroked through her climax, and her body responded, doubling and redoubling the pleasure. And then he came inside her, jets of heat that sent her higher still, until all the world went white, and then dark.
When she woke, she was in her own bed, in the dorm. Her uniform skirt lay out, ready for her, and there was a full row of badges on it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carolyn ground her teeth in frustration. Why is French so damned hard? Je n'y pige rien. When the attendant motioned to her, she rose eagerly.
The attendant handed her a package. She opened it to find a plug-or at least, something she thought must be a plug, though the shape was more hourglass than the usual stopper. It wasn't plastic, she could tell that before she touched it, but it took her a moment to figure out that the soft, light, mottled-brown object was truly … cork.
Laughing, she motioned to the robed figure to lead the way.