The Schooling of Carolyn

darkness swallowed her, and there was an end to the climaxing, and her muscles eased as she fell into simple sleep.

When she woke, sore and dizzy with weakness, the room was empty but for her and Jack. “How do you feel?'

Carolyn moaned, but considered the question. The answer shocked her awake. “I…” She couldn't say it. Her skin flushed and paled, as, mortified, she realized.

'I know,” Jack nodded. “It's why you'll fit in here.” She helped Carolyn back to the dorm, tucked her into bed, wished her a good night. Carolyn said not a word, still stunned by her own reaction. Sore almost beyond bearing, humiliated, used for entertainment-she was ashamed, in pain. But beyond all that, she was, incredibly, aroused. So raw she couldn't close her legs, and desperate to come again.

'It's why you'll fit in here.'

CHAPTER THREE

FIRST DAY JITTERS

Carolyn sat at a long table in the dining hall. She felt rumpled, though every hair was in place. Jack had waked her before dawn to walk her through the morning routine, and it was more thorough than she ever could have imagined. She'd never seen a bidet before, and that was only the beginning of the adventure. By the time she'd been allowed to put on her uniform, she was wishing for ice to cool the heat of her constantly blushing cheeks. The other students had done their best not to laugh. It hadn't helped.

Jack had been patient with her, and now encouraged her to eat. The food was as well-prepared as dinner had been, but Carolyn couldn't swallow. She was too nervous, for after breakfast her classes would begin. She sipped at some juice, mostly to keep Jack from fussing, and shifted in her seat, trying to ease her nerves.

And her arousal. She was less tender than she'd expected to be, just sore enough to make her aware of every inch. And everything around her reminded her of where she was, and why. It's so … so. She had no words for what she felt; it was too different from what she'd known. Grown men and women in school uniforms. Dormitories and proctors and curfews. Dining halls. And sex everywhere, but not what she thought of as sex.

She pressed her legs together, trying to ease the throbbing, and heard a student clear his throat. What? Oh, right. That was on the sheet of rules: The legs are to remain open … She forgot how it went.

'Does it get easier?'

Jack knew what she meant. “Yes and no. Look over there.” She pointed to a table of men and women of varying ages, not wearing any kind of uniform; all confident, healthy as everyone at the Academy, welcoming or forbidding, but eye-catching, every one. “Those are tutors. Once one picks you, things change a bit. More fun, but harder. Until then, you just have classes, and you'll be amazed at the things you never knew you could learn! Just make sure you learn the rules, and follow them, and you'll be fine. Horny every second of every day, but fine.” The bell rang, and Jack walked Carolyn to her class. “Good luck,” she whispered, and patted Carolyn's behind.

Startled, she stepped forward into the room.

The class was called Intro to The Body, and like everything else she had seen, it made Carolyn gape-torn between shock and fascination, shamed and aroused at once. The instructor, Grace, took a few moments to welcome the new students, and then began. As the students around her did, Caro took out a pen and notebook and prepared to take notes. There were textbooks, but Grace favored a hands-on approach.

And those hands went everywhere. More than the fact that the instructor simply chose two models from the students, it was the way the she so casually poked and prodded and lifted and squeezed and stroked that took Carolyn's breath away.

She didn't catch everything, too lost in wonder to concentrate, and more than once caught herself drifting into fantasy. Pay attention! What if there's a test? That thought was too tantalizing; she bit her lip and focused on the lecture.

'And so,” Grace continued, “we come to the knee. An overlooked erogenous zone, these days. A good rule of thumb is that if you can tickle it, it is very sensitive. Observe.” Her hapless victim lifted a leg, clenching his fists at his sides. The instructor cupped her hand around the back of his knee and stroked gently. His erection grew thicker and longer as he moaned. Cheeks and neck as red as Carolyn's felt, he stood meekly beneath Grace's ministrations, and she gave his discomfort no attention at all.

Carolyn was by turns shocked and jealous; the other students all seemed to take it in stride. Hard as she tried to keep her mind on the lesson, she couldn't help wondering how it would feel to take his place. To be standing there, probed and stroked and tickled, while dozens of eager students watched and took notes. She was amused to note her own focus: here was a chance to observe a man's phallus in daylight, something she'd never had the chance to do, and she was busy watching the back of his knee.

What would that feel like? Would I like it? Her hand slipped below the desk before she thought. No, that's not allowed. Besides, Grace might notice. She was walking around the room now, reading the students’ notes. Hurriedly, Carolyn scribbled a few words down. Ticklish. Where am I ticklish?

The instructor stopped by her desk. “Well, Carolyn, isn't it? I see you're going to fit in. Stand up and raise your skirt.” Carolyn looked up, jaw gaping wide. Is she serious? The question didn't need to be asked; gulping, Carolyn followed orders, standing before her desk with her skirt hiked high.

Grace had a pointer, and she used it with great skill, tracing glyphs and runes on Carolyn's thighs. Her legs spread to invite it higher, but the teacher declined. Descending instead to her knee, the instructor drew circles, varying pressure and angle, writing messages on her skin. Her legs shook-shame, desire-and she bit down on her lip. A firmer touch; her legs buckled, and she came.

The instructor smiled. “That is forbidden, you know. You were not given permission to enjoy. But, it is your first day, so I'll postpone your punishment. You may take your seat.'

Shaking, Carolyn leapt to obey. Wow! She stared at her desktop, refusing to look up, afraid to find the whole class still staring at her. She imagined she could feel their eyes just the same, and flushed, but, Wow! How did she do that? My knee? God, what could she do … there?

Her next class was in Discipline, something she felt she sorely needed. It, too, promised to be riveting.

* * * *

Bertha was the first person Carolyn had seen at the Academy who wasn't physically alluring. Not that she was ugly, she was simply white-haired with skin folded by time and wear.

That's disgusting. She's old enough to be my grandmother!

The Mistress of Discipline who sat at the front of the class was indeed quite aged. She was also in charge, and perfectly capable of controlling the classroom, which she demonstrated bare moments after the bell rang to begin.

'Carolyn. What is the first command?'

It had been on the sheet she had been given, and was carved above several doors. She answered confidently. “Your place is to obey.'

'Good. Remove your skirt.'

Carolyn froze. Not now, please! Her thighs were still sticky. The underwear she had been given was lace: thin, sheer, dainty, revealing. And wet. Her hands clenched on the waistband of the skirt, and she paused, wishing, but she had promised herself she would do what was wanted, here. I made my choice. And I will see it through. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the skirt fall.

'Turn.'

She did, hating the flush she could feel rising to her cheeks. It would spread south, she knew, down her neck, her chest, perhaps further. “Bend over. Show the class your ass,” the old woman said.

Why that? Tears stung beneath her eyelids as she moved to obey the command. Carolyn had always been ashamed of her behind. Jutting back as if to draw attention to itself, larger than one would