The Schooling of Carolyn

* * * *

Carolyn did not attend her last class for the day; with the young woman who had spoken, she was pulled aside. “You're wanted in the library. Come along.” They followed biddably, Carolyn trying not to wince as each step increased her pain. The analgesic had well and truly worn off.

She was still eager to come, even knowing how much it would hurt her already overused flesh. Swaying her hips, she made her way down a hall either too long by far or not nearly long enough, each step a new burst of pleasure-pain.

Six people sat in the room; Carolyn saw only one. The man from her dreams, dark mustache, white slash of smile. Her hand rose to her chest, to keep her heart from leaping forward. She took two steps toward him, but an attendant barred her way.

'Kneel.'

She went to her knees, taking the position Jack had taught her. Beside her, the other woman was prodded into place. “Jennifer, tell us why you are here.'

The woman sobbed, a loud, sloppy, liquid sound. “I don't kn-ow…” she whined. “I thought … but then…” She stammered for a while, but didn't manage a single coherent phrase.

'Carolyn.'

She licked her lips.

'Tell us why you are here.'

'I am here to learn.” She had been told to keep her eyes down, but could not resist a glance. He was there, real, within reach, had she but dared touch him. “To feel.” It wasn't enough. The set of his shoulders told her he waited for something. Her mind raced. What could she say, what did he want to hear? Discipline. “My place is to obey.” The words welled up from somewhere near her heart.

And they worked. He didn't smile, but she thought he came close to it. His shoulders relaxed, his chin dropped in kin to a nod. He was pleased, and knowing that made her insides melt. I pleased him. She felt she was glowing, head to toe.

'There is one here who wants you. Go to that person.” She rocked back on her heels and went to him. Kneeling as she had been taught, she dared to meet his eyes for one brief moment, then looked down, keeping her face tilted up at him.

'Carolyn.” That was all, he merely spoke her name. But her body tightened all at once, and then relaxed. Not quite a climax, but a strong burst of pleasure. Her breath rushed out, and she shuddered.

'Jennifer.'

Someone else had spoken, Carolyn did not know who, nor care. She knelt, torn between yearning and satisfaction, wanting to look at him, but happy just to be there. The others dealt with Jennifer; Carolyn paid no attention, the sounds just background as she basked in his presence so close to her.

The attendant spoke again. “Carolyn, rise and follow.” She whimpered, though she tried not to, as she obeyed. Down a corridor to a hall lined with doors, but no windows. “This is your tutor's office. Be here tomorrow. That is all.'

She found her way back to the dining hall, hands shaking with her need.

* * * *

The man from her French class, Tom, sat with her at dinner, telling her how things worked. “Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, you knock on his door. Do what he tells you, whatever he tells you, and you'll be fine. Disobey, and you could find yourself out of here. Tutorials take precedent over everything else; your tutor can take you out of classes, forbid you to sleep … anything he says goes, for as long as he wants you. But you still have to keep up with your class work. Have you memorized the rules?'

Carolyn had, so Tom started quizzing her on her French. Finding she had none, he shrugged. “You'll need a tutor.'

'But, I thought I had one. Tomorrow morning, I knock on his door?'

'No, I mean you'll need to find someone to teach you to speak French. Your tutor has nothing to do with classes; that's something else. You'll need to make a bargain with somebody.'

'A bargain?” Carolyn shook her head, completely lost. “Help?'

Tom put his hand on Carolyn's thigh. His smile reminded her of a jackal, though she'd never seen one. Without thinking, she pulled away from him, frowning. His sneer was menacing. “You don't have anything to offer, little girl.'

Jack's voice came from behind. “Nor anything worth taking, right, Tom?'

Tom craned his neck around, took a good look, and spread his hands, displaying emptiness.

'You were just leaving, right? I'll take that seat.” When he was out of earshot, Jack directed her frown down at Carolyn. “Stay away from him; he'll just get you into trouble. Found a tutor yet?'

Smile bright as sunlight, Carolyn began to talk about her day.

The evening passed too quickly, in conversation and in study; Carolyn lost herself in reading about history. But when she lay her head on her pillow, her thoughts were not of Egypt-she looked forward, not to the past. Her dreams were all about her tutor, and what he might teach. Whatever it was, she was eager to learn. Proctors patrolled the dormitories, ensuring compliance to the rules. That night, several had to move Carolyn's hands above the covers.

Morning came, and she moved through the routine like a sleepwalker. Fear became arousal, which changed to terror, then desire, an unending loop. What would he want of her? Her heart pounded. What if she wasn't good enough? She couldn't even meet a small town's expectations; how could she expect to satisfy this man? She didn't even know what he would want!

She knew what she wanted: him. And the sensations she had been promised. Sensations beyond belief, a promise already being kept. She wanted more. Even the blushes, the shame?

Yes. It was all better than drifting and emptiness, even the worst of it. You don't know that. You just got here. It could get worse.

'So what?” She spoke aloud, felt her cheeks heat, forced a laugh, and knocked on his door.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE TUTOR

An attendant opened the door, waving her inside with a gloved hand. She heard the door close behind her, did not turn to look. She could not. Her eyes were glued on him.

Even half-hidden behind a desk, he seemed strong and commanding. Her legs were shaky. God, I need … His eyes were intense; she felt the heat as he looked at her, from her no-doubt scarlet face to her feet in their bright-polished shoes and back again.

She knew what he saw. Aside from the outfit, the same thing she had long since ceased to see when she looked in the mirror. A woman; longish hair, slimmish form-except for the jutting ass, two half-globes nothing ever hid-nothing missing, nothing malformed.

Fidgeting.

He bade her sit, in a chair placed to face his desk. She crossed her legs automatically; he raised an eyebrow. Some took longer than others to forgo the habits of the outside world. Following his gaze, she flushed slightly as she realized her error.

Rule six: The legs are to remain open at all times, seated or standing. This signifies accessibility and obedience.

Taking a deep breath-his gaze mimicked the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her thin cotton blouse-she spread her legs, sitting deep into her chair as though to protect herself.

'Tell me, how do you masturbate?” His voice was calm, casual.

It took a moment for the sense of the words to penetrate. “What?” Unconscious of the movement, she slid a hand along her thigh, pulling her skirt taut.

'I said ‘tell,’ not ‘show.'” His voice was still calm, almost amused. She followed his glance again. Flushed. Inhaled.

'I-I don't…” She could find no words. He seemed disinclined to prompt her further, and she had learned that hesitation was inadvisable here in this place. Gulping down her discomfort, she tried again. “I don't often