her eyes closed, but it didn't help. She knew everyone was watching. She posed, ass high, knees spread, feeling cool air and hot gazes and shame and arousal and a dildo buried in her rear.
'Reach back and pull the dildo out, slowly.'
She obeyed as if in a dream, slow withdrawal a pleasure and a torment. Gasping softly as the flared head pressed against her sphincter, she sighed as the muscle closed. “Now clean it.” Still refusing to open her eyes, she swallowed and brought the tool to her mouth.
Her eyes flew open. He couldn't mean … of course he could. Her chest heaved, body clenched, panic reaction making everything painfully sharp and clear. She could hear the attendant breathing, feel her tutor's exhalation stirring her hair. Her shoulders pulled back, leash jerking her down again. She panted.
'We're waiting,” he said softly, his voice kind. She looked up at him, eyes traveling up from the erection stretching his pants to his face, smiling gently. Her panic faded, replaced by desire and a strange sort of pride, that she could excite him. She locked her gaze with his as she spoke.
'Thank you, sir, for honoring me with your attentions. I hope you shall always make the effort to correct me when I need it. And thank you for allowing my peers to witness the pleasure and the pain you granted me.” She smiled up at him, and turned her face, though not her eyes, toward the audience. “I hope that you enjoyed the show.” Her clit throbbed as she laughed. The audience applauded as the bell rang signaling the end of the dinner hour.
'You enjoyed that, didn't you?” His voice quavered as he tried to stifle his laughter. She nodded, still looking deep into his eyes, smiling. “And when tomorrow I have you placed in stocks by the front door, will you enjoy that as well?'
She considered, shrugged. “Will you be watching?” He didn't answer, just took the dildo from her hand and plunged it home. He twisted as he thrust, and the sensation pushed her to new heights of pleasure. Her tears then owed nothing to shame.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For the next month and more, Carolyn was anally trained. Each day brought some sensation, often pain and pleasure combined. She wore plugs to stretch her sphincter, not too far, but a bit; took frequent enemas to keep the area clean; went to class surrounding strings of beads that massaged her when she moved, or gently vibrating eggs. Learned to contract her muscles in sequence, prepared to milk a cock.
She was allowed no vaginal penetration, which necessarily excused her from some of her class work. Those climaxes she was granted-too few by far, for her-all featured anal attentions and discipline. It was part of her tutor's plans for her.
And sometimes, she came without permission. And was punished, often anally.
* * * *
Carolyn pushed back, opening her ass wide for her tutor's inspection. “Relax,” he told her, and she did her best to remain perfectly still. It was hard not to move as his finger broached her sphincter, the feeling as conquering as ever, her body yielding to his will. The breath rushed out of her body; she bit her lip, desperate not to come. She longed to clench tight around his invading digit. But he had told her not to, so she did not.
'Good,” he murmured, and her body broke out in sweat. Her heart pounded, whole body throbbing with her pulse; she was seconds away from coming, but not allowed to come. One word, one touch from him was all that it would take, but he had not given permission, so she tried to resist. His finger retreated, the slow withdrawal a caress, nearly pushing her over. She felt empty without him there, and wished for his return.
He did not leave her vacant for long. Something cool, not too thick; she accepted it easily. He pushed it in, reminding her not to clench. She measured its progress, thrilling to the sensation. It warmed, whatever it was, with her body heat. High and higher it went, its journey easy, reshaping her from the inside out. She panted, body shaking despite her best efforts, stammering out her apologies as she began to come.
And fire bloomed within her as she spasmed. Screaming in pain, she continued to orgasm, white lights behind her eyes beyond pleasure, beyond pain. Sensation, racking her, coursing through her body.
She blacked out from sheer sensation, woke spasming still. Her throat was raw, eyes streaming, bowels burning. “What?” Her voice rasped and tore; she could not go on. Moaning as her body climbed toward yet another climax, she sought her tutor's eyes, locked gazes with him.
He was smiling, laughing gently at her. “I told you not to do that.'
She nodded, sighed.
'It's called a fig. That one's essence of ginger. They use it on parade horses, to make them keep their tails up. Looks like it works on you, too.” She waggled her ass helplessly, feeling the burning; he patted the nearest cheek and went on. “Usually they're placed just inside the anus; I thought it might be fun to put yours further up. Tell me, how does it feel?'
She knew what he wanted her to say, and meant to say it. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was thanks. “Thank you, for honoring me with your attention. For thinking of me, teaching me, everything. Thank you for-ooh-this gift of burning. I feel,” her body shaking, heartbeats from coming yet again, “I feel your touch everywhere.” And she collapsed again into orgasm, body sore and yet exultant.
He laughed and shrugged and let her come. Again and again and again until the burning faded. And then he told her she'd be feeling it again. “I think I'll send you to class gingered. The other students should find the lesson interesting.” She shook, sobbing, her body raw and aching and oversensitized. The mere thought of it, of walking into a classroom, sitting down, all those eyes on her … she knew there was no way she'd manage not to transgress multiply.
'Perhaps I'll make it a ceremony. You haven't been on the dining hall stage in weeks. Yes, I think I like that thought. Make you ask for it, tell everyone what you're feeling once it's in.” He watched as her body struggled not to orgasm, too-sensitized flesh red and weeping as she came. Her eyes rolled back and she went limp, not exactly unconscious, but too weak to move.
Distantly, she heard the scratching of pen on paper; she had no strength to wonder what he wrote.
* * * *
One evening, she was summoned from a workshop. Afraid and curious and excited, she followed the attendant to a small receiving room. It looked like the Victorian sitting room she had seen in her history books, all crowded full of tiny bits of furniture. She blinked, trying to pick a clear path through the room, and only belatedly saw the Anatomy and Physiology instructor, Grace.
'You summoned me? Ma'am?'
'Yes.'
For a moment there was silence, as Carolyn wondered if she'd missed a punishment-she didn't think she had, but what else could this meeting be?
'Sit down.'
Carolyn sat, carefully. She was unplugged, for once, so it wasn't fear of pain that moved her to caution. Half her care was concern for the chair, the other half simple attention to the rules:
'Tea?'
'Ah,”
'Relax. I'm not going to bite. Tonight.” Grace smiled, and Carolyn was struck once again by just how attractive everyone at the Academy was. The instructor wasn't beautiful, it wasn't that, but she glowed with health and confidence and contentment. Her body was lightly muscled, very toned, and the catsuits and thin wrap dresses
