release without permission in class this morning.” Not looking up, though she knew she was supposed to, she related the sordid tale briefly. No sound met her straining ears but her own breathing. He might have been a statue. Finally, she looked up.
'An orgasm? What prompted this?” He wasn't frowning, or smiling. An eyebrow slightly raised, nothing more.
'Grace, the instructor … she said that some women experienced orgasm from anal stimulation. I was curious. I didn't mean to … pleasure myself, I just wanted to know if it would be possible. And then she breathed on me. And I shook. And it … it just … happened. I really didn't mean to…” She trailed off. What more was there to say?
'She breathed on you?” His voice shook with ill-concealed laughter. “And did her breath perchance carry words?'
Carolyn dropped her eyes, blushing furiously. “She said I liked it because I didn't like it.'
'And was she right?'
Carolyn looked up, anger suddenly boiling in her veins. “You know I hate it! That's why you do it! If you thought I liked having a giant rubber plug up my butt, you'd find something else to do to me.” She was so angry she was panting, and he smiled, not bothering to pretend he wasn't enjoying the picture she presented. Her blush didn't stop at her face, traveling down her neck to her breasts, accenting her distended nipples.
'And yet you came.” He sounded so smug it made her growl.
'Yes, damn you, I came! That's why you chose me, isn't it, that I get off on this shit?'
'Please don't be vulgar,” he murmured, motioning her to back up.
She looked down, surprised to find she was leaning over his desk, her face inches from his. She stepped back as he spoke.
'You know quite well why you are here, and the terms of the agreement you made. I don't recall that tantrums were among the qualities you were told we look for.” He was smiling again.
'No.” She sighed, deflated. “I'm sorry.” She tried to read his face, could not. Waited, spreading her legs a bit more, hoping to impress him with her obedient posture.
He reached into a desk drawer, withdrew a bottle of oil. “Put that on the plug, then bend over the desk and insert it.'
Gaping with surprise at the mildness of his tone, she rushed to obey, coating the plug liberally with the pleasantly-scented oil, then resting her chest against the desk, reaching back to open her cheeks. She pressed the plug in quickly, desperate to get the deed done, and squealed as the burning began.
'What?” She twisted to look at him, shock and pain widening her eyes, her ass dancing away from inescapable pain.
'Would you like to come now?” His voice was soft, almost a purr, as he leaned back drinking in the sight of her, squirming and panting before him.
'God! No! Yes!” She gasped out the words, unable to think past the searing. Pressing back, she tried to expel the plug, but the motion made her sphincter grasp more fiercely, and heat burned. She threw her weight from side to side, desperate to escape. “Yes,” she moaned, shame and need turning beneath the pain.
'Then do so.” She reached a hand, but he spoke a single word-'no'-and she withdrew it. She frowned, puzzled, wondering how she was expected to come, and gaped as the answer occurred to her. He wanted her to repeat her earlier performance, bearing down on the plug and using it to bring herself off.
'I can't,” she sobbed. “Please, don't make me.” Her traitorous body wriggled against the desk, frigging her clit against it even as she begged.
'Not that way,” he crooned, and she wept as she obeyed the implied command, lifting her lower body away from the desk. She struggled, but eventually her need overcame her pain, and she sat down on the desk, legs spread before him, bruised ass pushing against the wood, and squirmed her way to orgasm.
He made her pull the plug out and re-oil it, then slide it in and out in a parody of intercourse. She came that way, too, of course, and he squirted oil directly into her asshole before making her repeat her performance again. A third agonizingly shameful orgasm left her too weak even to lift herself away from pain, and she slumped over, flushed and sobbing.
'I owe you several punishments, but I think I'll wait a bit. You've missed lunch, but you can still make your afternoon classes. Go back to wherever you've left your clothes-” a brief hint of shame flickered within her, but she hadn't the strength to protest “-and dress yourself as best you're able. I'll see you the day after tomorrow.” He waved her away, and she fairly fell from the desk, drained and swollen with pleasure and pain. Her clit throbbed weakly, begging for more even now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sherry appeared at dinner, moving with a great deal of care, but unconcerned. She made Carolyn eat, shared jokes and gossip, trying to distract Carolyn from her impalements-the physical and the emotional. Finally, she asked what was wrong.
'I've got a bigger plug in me than before, and it's coated in boiling oil,” Carolyn said shortly.
'Well, of course,” her new friend laughed. “An ass like yours, you had to know someone was going to plug you. It's prep for the corking.” She shrugged, and chimes sounded beneath her shirt. She reached for the rolls, and her shirt tightened against oddly-shaped protrusions.
Carolyn shook her head, confused and distracted. “Corking? And what have they done to you?'
Sherry smiled, bent forward, allowing Carolyn a glimpse of chains with charms, bells and whistles and ornaments. Her nipples were dark, misshapen by the clamps holding everything on. “Corking is being fucked up the ass. You haven't?'
Carolyn looked down at her plate, toyed with her food, and tried not to shift in her chair. “No. I'd never had anything up there before. My tutor made me put my finger in there, and then his finger, and then enemas and the plugs, but I'd never even thought about it before. And now,” she felt her cheeks warm, “well, you might of heard of a student who came in class this morning? That was me.'
'I know.” Sherry smiled. “It's why I came to dinner; I wanted to see how you were holding up. Things can be pretty intense here.” She reached out, patted Carolyn's hand, and Carolyn smiled in her turn. A friend could make things much easier.
'There's a workshop tonight. You going?'
'I will if you will.'
* * * *
Because of her tutor's instructions, Carolyn was excused from the practical portion of the evening's lesson, on taking a spanking with pleasure. She sat, mouth wide with amazement, as student after student posed over the lap of a volunteer and was subjected to the humiliation of having their asses spanked. Not one of them seemed to mind! They squirmed, panted, moaned, begged. Not to have it stop, but for more! Every student in the class, even those who shook with fear at the beginning of the session, seemed to enjoy the sensation. Carolyn twisted in her chair, jealousy and curiosity making her bite her lip, and her abused ass throbbed a warning. She froze, shocked to realize how close she had been to coming again. Half wishing she hadn't caught herself in time.
Four volunteers “saw to” the class of twelve, not including those students not permitted to take part. The leaders (Carolyn wasn't sure if they were tutors or instructors or older students) were dressed alike, in textured aprons, and by the end of class those aprons glistened with the juices of the willing victims. As the bell sounded dismissal, the volunteers stood and bowed, and one of the students rose and bowed in return, reddened ass turned to face them. A laugh ran through the room, and Carolyn saw one of the apron-clad spankers motion to the impudent student. She sobbed deep in her throat, wishing.
Her sleep was plagued with dreams, of her tutor “seeing to” her, of being corked, of coming until she could come no more, finally satisfied. Morning found her still tired, stretched too full to breathe in comfort, and dreading
