mix of feelings-she was embarrassed, and eager, and aflame.
Her insides melted, just at the sight of him, and the Enforcer sent its scolding shocking forth. She winced, and the students chuckled or clapped or told her to enjoy. She didn't even look at them.
A perverse imp of impulse made her grind against the seat. The Enforcer, unyielding, pressed hard into her mound and sent forth its electric scold. Again, a third time, and a fourth, faster, harder. She climaxed in time with the shock, screaming loud into the hall.
The shocks continued, making her body writhe. Spasming, gasping, eyes and mouth gaping wide. Calibrated with great care, it could not really hurt her, but it fired all it could, and her eyes rolled back in her head with the sensation.
Beyond pleasure, beyond pain, her whole body clenched in orgasm. Rictus smile stretching her face, she fell forward in her chair. The table might have been a pillow filled with goose down, from the way she sighed.
'Jitterbug,” she purred, and went to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
She woke sometime in the night, the soft slap of flesh on flesh whispering through the air. It was dark; she could not see who, or what, made the noise, heard only the pleasure, smelled the musk in the breeze, and a slight hint of antiseptic. Sighs and moans and kisses lulled her back to sleep. In the morning, when the white-coated doctor woke her, her first thought was to look around the room. The infirmary, she decided. No mussed bed sheets met her eyes; she was left to wonder. And smile wryly when she realized how disappointed she was not to know.
She'd never cared before, what people did together. But now, she was curious. And envious. They had enjoyed themselves, whoever they had been; she wanted to feel the same, and more, and
The doctor released her to what he called a light schedule, and sent her to breakfast and classes after telling her to take care. Just before she left, he smeared a cream on her vaginal mound; she jumped at the cold touch, but made no sound of protest. Somehow, it didn't seem worth the effort. The chill faded quickly, and he waved her on her way. Dressing, she realized it had taken all her pain.
She whistled as she made her way to the dining hall, hunger spurring her steps till she got to the door. Sudden memory made her freeze.
'Carolyn!” Jack shouted from a table, waving. Mortified, Carolyn shuffled to her chair. She choked down a few bites to the jests and jeers of the students, her tears flavoring her meal though she tried her best not to hear.
'Oh, hush,” a redheaded woman spoke from a nearby table. “We've all been through it. Don't worry, sugar; you adjust. Are you in much pain?” Carolyn shook her head, not daring to look up. “Well, then, just you get on with your studies. There's a great deal to learn!” The talk turned to classes, and homework, and teachers and tutors. Carolyn listened, desperate to know everything she could about this place.
The bell rang for class.
* * * *
She'd never liked history in high school, but they hadn't taught it anything like this. Variously crafted phalluses were positioned around the room. The instructor held a box before the class. “Cleopatra's vibrator. Instead of electricity, she had buzzing bees.” The lesson included information about society, dress and custom and belief, money and politics. It was all fascinating, and all tied into sex. Carolyn was eager for the study period, and the chance to read her textbook. She'd never seen ancient Egyptian pornography!
The next class was in the language hall; she was told she'd be learning French. Her heart sank; she'd done poorly in that, too. But perhaps it would be like history had been, so different from her experience as to be almost alien. She stood in the doorway as class started, hoping against hope.
A beautiful sculpted woman lounged in a chaise at the front of the room. Love words rolled off her tongue like honey, heavy and golden. Carolyn's nipples tightened purely in reflex, the voice so intimate it seemed to caress her ears. A man in his twenties raised his hand, and the woman gestured. He stood, uniform shorts tented out over an impressive erection, and spoke a few words, in French, presumably. Carolyn had never learned to understand more than a handful of words. Whatever he said, it seemed to amuse the woman, who laughed and purred something that made him come where he stood. The class didn't seem surprised, but rather sympathetic. Carolyn got the idea this teacher didn't enforce the second rule.
She stepped inside. The numbness was beginning to fade from her core, and soreness intruded, but she made her way to an empty desk and gingerly sat down. The woman said something, and the man at the desk beside her replied and bent his head to Carolyn's ear. “We'll meet after supper, and I'll help you get caught up. For now, just listen.” He turned his face forward, expression rapt, as the woman declaimed.
Though she could not understand a word, Carolyn, too, listened.
Lunch. She ate hungrily.
* * * *
Discipline was a daily class; she had to face Bertha again. The old woman merely smiled inscrutably. Carolyn dutifully took notes, attending her pen that she need not look at the teacher; the topic was restraint, physical as opposed to mental. “You'll learn of that another day.” Bertha spoke of what they might expect when first they were restrained, the panic, the feeling of claustrophobia. “When your eyes are covered, you feel enclosed, even out in the open. This is natural, but you will need to keep yourself calm.'
'Why?” A young woman spoke from the front of the room. Her uniform was like Carolyn's, bare of patches.
'If you wish to displease your masters, then panic away. But you are here to learn how to please them, no?'
Carolyn frowned.
Her eyes locked on Carolyn's. “Do you understand?'
Carolyn gulped, and the hated flush rose again to her cheeks. “I-I'll try,” she whispered, and the harridan at last moved on. Squirming, wincing as rough lace scraped across tender flesh, she stifled a groan.
