The Schooling of Carolyn

here shows considerable skill, strike after strike falling in the same location. It provides a longer-lasting pain, sometimes in excess of one week, while causing no scarring, skin-splits, or other permanent damage. Call it a very palpable reminder not to disobey. This single strike here…” Impossible as it seemed, Carolyn fell asleep. The teacher woke her at the end of class with a pinch to the worst-bruised area.

Somehow, she made it through the rest of her schedule without mishap. Sherry sat with her again at dinner, and told jokes and stories to keep her awake until dismissal. She had nowhere to report that evening, and gratefully took to her bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow. She spared no thought for the anal plug still lodged within her; it felt completely natural.

She woke with the bell. Moving to sit up, she froze and gasped. Pain-there was something inside her! A moment later, she remembered the anal plug. Moving gingerly, she gathered her things together to head for the bathroom. She felt swollen around the plug, distended. Had it gotten larger? Waddling, stepping carefully, she entered the shower. As other students jostled for hot water, for soap, she crept along a wall, praying no one would bump into her.

'Ah!” She gasped as someone's elbow brushed her hip.

The woman turned, puzzled, then, seeing her stance, smiled gently. “First time with an overnight, eh? No worries.” She moved off, leaving Carolyn to ponder her remark. Overnights were uncomfortable for everyone, it seemed. And common, to be so soon recognized. Her heart sank.

Dressing was an ordeal; she felt impaled. Natural movement was not possible; her center of gravity seemed to have shifted back a few inches. She was graceless, and knew it, and hated it. Not secret at all, this horrid plug, some part of her sourly observed. She wanted it out, wanted it gone, wanted to feel her sphincter closed, not stretched around a foreign invader. She wanted to be able to slouch, to twist, to bend. And she could not.

Part of her wondered at the shift. It had not seemed so bad the night before. Why had her body not adapted? Not that she wanted to adapt to such an unnatural internal companion, but it seemed strange that it was worse in the morning. With no appetite for breakfast, and neither Sherry nor Jack to be found, she toyed with her meal, exiting the dining hall as soon as possible.

Class served to distract her a bit; they were studying the structure of the male organ in Intro to the Body. While not a virgin, Carolyn had never truly examined a cock before, having been of the lights-out, missionary-only contingent. Or at least, married to a man who was. God, did I ever think about it at all?

Students at the Academy were expected to do more than just think about sex; she was beginning to realize she was expected to do anything and everything. 'Sensations beyond belief.” And experiences I'd never have dreamed.

Look at it! It jumped. She nearly managed to forget about her unwanted internal guest until the discussion moved to things anal.

'The prostate,” Grace said, “can trigger orgasm despite the unwillingness of the subject male. Observe.” The subject, spread-eagle on a display frame, bit his lip as the instructor inserted a lubricated finger. His half-erect cock sprung up as the internal massage progressed, orgasm following perhaps a minute later. Spent, he hung from his bonds, panting. His sperm had reached even the back rows. He sobbed.

Grace wiped her finger clean, and continued. “This subject's display results in a punishment he knows well, and despises. Despite this, and despite the fact that he has a personal animus towards me, he was unable to prevent orgasm. You will all learn this technique. In passing, it should be mentioned that while women do not possess the identical anatomy, many women can also be sparked to orgasm by anal stimulation, despite-or, often, because of-distaste for any such action.” The instructor smiled in Carolyn's direction, and she flushed, squirming. The pain of her ass, today several shades of blue and red, served only to inflame her desire. The more she moved, the more welcome the plug became to her, the rubbing within her almost like intercourse. Her juices flowed, soaking her underwear. Her nipples tightened, her breathing quickened. Panting, she forced herself to stillness. Grace paused beside her chair, raised a brow. Leaning close, he whispered, “Because of, in your case.'

Flushing red-hot, she came.

* * * *

Orgasm during class, without permission. She shuddered to think what her punishment would be. Orgasm from an anal plug; she blushed still more with shame. Grace said nothing to her beyond commanding her to confess her transgression at her appointment. She was sent on to her next class as though nothing had happened, still sticky with her juices. Still plugged. It felt not at all unwelcome now, physically. Mentally, emotionally, she still thought it unnatural, but she had to admit that it stimulated her.

Walking the hall to class, she swayed her hips side to side, feeling the plug shift with each step. By the time she reached her destination, she was well on her way to another illicit orgasm. Whispers greeted her at the door; those students from the last class telling others what she had done. The teacher, too, seemed already to have heard: Carolyn was given a seat on a high stool in the front corner of the room. With no desk, she had perforce to balance her notebook on a thigh, crouching forward against the plug, or raising a leg high to form a desk, opening herself fully to view. It was quite uncomfortable, and quite a spectacle. The attention of much of the class ensured she would not accomplish any surreptitious rubbing. She knew she was displaying herself, and had no choice. The stool was hard, rubbing her bruised ass, forcing the plug deep. She couldn't help her arousal, the shame seemed only to drive it higher. By the end of class, she was shaking from need, exhausted from the strain of her position, and there was a puddle of her juices beneath the stool.

Thank God, time for my appointment! She waddled as fast as she could.

Carolyn stood before the office door, shaking. Confession led to punishment, and she was unsure she could take another punishment. Her ass ached even standing; sitting tortured her bruised flesh, and there was the oddly pleasant torment of the anal plug within her. Weak with conflicting desires-to run, to cry, to lean against a wall and pleasure herself, permissions be damned-she breathed as hard as if she'd run a marathon. Her thighs were sticky with residues of need past and present.

The door opened before her. “Were you intending to knock?” He stood backlit, looming, haloed, his face in darkness. Her knees weakened, as they always did when she saw him, heard his voice, felt the heat coming off him. Not waiting for an answer, he motioned her to follow, and led the way to the tiled chamber where yesterday she'd been stretched by enemas at his command. She entered reluctantly, remembering pain, but unable to defy him. Your place is to obey.

'Strip. Remove the plug, clean it. There is an enema bag readied; set the timer for ten minutes. Massage your stomach in a circular pattern, lower right to upper left. Release it, shower, bring the plug back to my office.” He turned with no further word, and left. She stood, mouth gaping, wondering. Why had he led her here, instead of sending an attendant? Why had he given those orders? Was she to … oh, God, no. He can't mean for me to leave my clothes here. I can't just walk the halls naked. Though she had seen no one the last time she'd traveled that hall, just the thought of exposure made her shake with fear. She could imagine it, every shameful step, naked, blushing, brandishing an anal plug. No!

Yes. Your place is to obey.

Her hands shaking, she moved to do as he had commanded. Removing the plug, she gasped at the sensation as her anus contracted around empty air. It felt oddly bereft. Replacing it with the enema tube was not as hard as she would have thought, but the rush of fluid soon bent her over, cramping. Remembering, she set the timer, then began to massage her belly, feeling it stretch under her hands until the bag was empty, and she was full.

The cramps were not as bad this time. Perhaps there was less fluid, or perhaps she was adjusting. Horrible thought. Fluid moved with her motion, circles gently encouraging the flow upward, deeper into her. She felt she was being molded into some new pattern or form.

The timer rang, giving her permission to release, to shower. She spent a long time cleaning herself, trying to still the trembling in her knees. At last, fearing delay would result in further punishment, she dashed down the corridor, unclothed, bearing the plug before her. This time, she didn't hesitate at the door, knocking as soon as it was within reach.

He waited a moment before answering.

Taking the plug from Carolyn's shaking hand, he replaced it with one a size larger. “You'll not report to me tomorrow, but the day after, at this time. Until then, wear this. If there is nothing further…'

She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Sir, forgive me, please, I have a confession to make. I experienced