The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Discipline

It was a beautiful summer day, the sort of idyllic sun-filled morning that screamed “beach” or “picnic” or anything except “class.” The knowledge that even the elementary schools were out for the season didn’t help my mood any. Despite our new-found attempts at normalcy, I’d been twitchy and irritable all week. It wasn’t my time of the month, and it wasn’t just the way I’d been getting punished on the bronc, either.

“Good morning, Tanya!” Jasmine greeted me from the dining room table, where she was already setting up for the day. Alex’s tutor might have been the physical double of her sister, but she’d never be mistaken for Lauren. The royal blue of her unkempt hair didn’t extend to all of her locks and, unlike mine, it came out of a bottle.

She was also infinitely patient, far more personable than Mr. Burns’ assistant, and equally unflappable. If Olivia was running around the house looking for her misplaced shorts, and wearing only her tee, Jaz would help her look. If Alex looked blank after hearing her repeated explanation of electron shells and the periodic table, she was perfectly willing to try it again, slightly differently, a third time. If Alex got excited and took a dump in his pants, she’d get him changed and cleaned up so I didn’t have to worry about Jose going into rut the moment he walked through the door. I knew she was being totally wasted on us, and selfishly prayed nothing took her away, because she was a major reason my home was as close to normal as it was.

I paused after the first sip of coffee. “Hi, Jasmine. I hope Alex is doing better at his lessons than I am.”

She laughed, politely. “He’s doing fine. And I’m sure you are, too. I remember the bronc—I thought I’d never figure it out, and Lauren made it look so easy!”

“Mom has a complex,” Olivia added unhelpfully as she joined me in the kitchen. She pecked me on the cheek before rummaging in the refrigerator for some milk.

I made a face, although it was difficult to argue the point. As good as I was on the bronc “cold,” I was equally inept on it when I was hot. Olivia, as might be expected of a slut, found it challenging too, but not like I did. It didn’t matter what size prod was attached, or whether it was in my mouth, my pussy, ass, or hand; it seemed the more I practiced, the less control I exhibited. Our instructor had even resorted to spanking or strapping me as an alternative to the shocks, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.

Luckily for me, the lesson plan for today read, “Orgasms.” Another “Muscular Control” would have had me still hiding under the sheets.

“C’mon, Mom, we’re going to be late!” Olivia urged me, bringing me back to my surroundings.

Not for the first time, I found her eagerness a trifle unsettling. Knowing my daughter’s enthusiasm was directed at one of her classmates, rather than the coursework, was not entirely reassuring.

Said classmate was waiting on the steps outside the building lobby, as usual. Shannon jumped to her feet, dark hair appearing to curl with nervous energy, as we pulled into the parking lot.

“Hey, Tanya,” I got in greeting. Olivia got a quick hug and an air kiss instead, and I was left again with the impression it would have been more if I hadn’t been watching. The two skipped ahead of me towards the elevator, talking in teen-speak about news of the day, while I trudged behind and wished I had my old life back. If I could have thought of a tactful way to remind Olivia this wasn’t normal, I would have used it.

We made it to the conference room just before class was due to begin, and in time to see Jocelyn finish showing Logan the tan lines from her new, obviously quite skimpy, bikini. I pulled a clean pair of shorts out of my oversized purse and swapped them for my skirt; the others were already in uniform.

Logan immediately stopped paying attention to Jocelyn and watched me change. It didn’t really squick me out any longer; privately, I thought of him as a big cuddly dog—loyal, wearing his thoughts on his cock, and willing to hump my leg on a moment’s notice.

Sometimes I wondered if it said something about our personalities that such a small group could be so dysfunctional. Jocelyn was so cute and bubbly and clearly would have done anything for or with Logan, but his attention was fixated entirely on burying himself in the soft slit beneath my blue landing strip. I kept trying to hint that Olivia’s nearly identical body would be far more appropriate in every sense, but the fiercely territorial Shannon radiated negative energy at anybody who looked too long at my daughter. I simultaneously wondered and feared to know what Olivia thought about all of it.

The instructor walked in precisely on schedule and I dropped into my seat. It used to be Diamond’s. She’d dropped out about a week after our attempted abduction, apparently unable to deal with it. I would have guessed Jocelyn would have been the one with problems, but apparently she wasn’t quite the airhead she projected. Somehow, Shannon had switched sides and now sat beside Olivia, leaving Jocelyn and Logan facing us across the expanse of the table.

“So. Orgasms, then. Pay attention!” With that cryptic lead-in, our instructor queued a video compilation. It was about five minutes long, and consisted entirely of close-up shots of people climaxing. My attention sharpened when I recognized myself, lips parted and eyes rolling upwards, but then my face disappeared and was replaced with another. When the screen went blank again, we’d seen ourselves and perhaps another 15 strangers cum in front of us.

“Question,” the instructor barked. “How many of those were real, and how many were faked?” He looked around at us, and I tried to decide what manner of trick question he was asking.

“All of them?” Logan asked, hesitantly. “Real, I mean.” It was the obvious guess, since I was nearly positive we, at least, hadn’t been faking anything.

The man at the head of the table scanned our faces again. “Anybody else?” Nobody was brave enough to speak up.

He smiled thinly. “Actually, all of them except you five were fake. Faking it is an important skill—you can’t always cum when, or as often as, the client wants. There are expectations in play, too. You don’t want to be too timid”—Jocelyn, who was a minimalist in that regard, looked down— “or do a Meg Ryan”—everybody chuckled as Shannon, a notorious screamer, raised her nose—“unless the situation calls for it.”

I realized the day wasn’t going to unfold the way I’d expected after all. I wasn’t sad about giving the bronc a pass, but I admitted to myself I’d been hoping for a real orgasm or two to perhaps bring me out of my funk.

“Today, we will begin—I stress, begin—working on our technique in this area. We’ll have no day-dreaming, please; those of you in the audience need to be active observers. If you have constructive observations, I want to hear them.” He scanned the table and we all nodded obediently. “Now, any volunteers to begin?”

My money would have been on Jocelyn, so I was more than a little surprised when Olivia’s hand went up beside me. I wasn’t at all surprised to see Shannon raise her hand a moment later. The instructor unbent enough to laugh at her. “I don’t think so, Shannon—part of the exercise is to work on faking it. You can work with Logan, next. Now...” he studied us, but I could do process of elimination too and had a sinking feeling I knew what would happen. “Let’s start with Olivia and Tanya.”

I looked unenthusiastically back, first at Olivia and then him, ignoring the thinly disguised jealousy on Shannon’s face. Knowing the bastard was punching my buttons and breaking me down didn’t keep it from being effective. I’d done a lot of shameful and degrading things during what I thought of as the first year of my new life, but I’d never had sex—or pretended to, anyway—with either of my children. I didn’t count the night I’d turned Alex. If there was anything I wanted to do less than make out with Olivia, I couldn’t think of it—and, Damnit, I already knew I was going to do it. The grinning devil at the head of the table knew it, too.

“What do we do, Sir?” I asked with a sigh as I stood up.

“Whatever you like,” he replied casually. “Don’t bother with foreplay; there’s no point and we’re interested only in the climax, if you’ll pardon the pun. Just make us believe, both of you, that we’ve walked in on the end of an extremely steamy session of love-making.”

I finished undressing and looked at Olivia, who was equally naked. We stepped together, almost but not quite identical, and I embraced her gingerly. “Sorry, Mom,” she whispered, and kissed me. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend it was just a long kiss good-night. My arms wrapped around her, like a nice hug that didn’t end.

“What, no tongue?” Jocelyn observed from across the table, making my eyes fly open again.

“Yeah, and their nipples aren’t standing up,” Logan added. “Maybe a stranger wouldn’t notice, but you know the way they usually swell out...”

“Excellent points, both of you. Ladies?”

I wanted to glare at all of them, but settled instead for pulling Olivia against me. Our tits mashed together, obscuring the tell-tale nubs of flesh atop them. The tip of Olivia’s tongue pressed against my mouth, and reluctantly I parted my lips to admit it. Gingerly I returned the favor, pushing my tongue against the tip of hers, and then extending it deep into her mouth.

Olivia let out a deep moan that scared my tongue back into my mouth, and broke our kiss without closing her lips. “Oh, you are so fucking hot,” she husked in a voice I’d never heard her use consciously. “You make me drip for you. Taste my honey; let me feel your tongue inside me.” Her grip shifted slightly, and started pushing me downwards.

Shocked, I reflexively locked my joints and resisted. There was a hint of apology in her eyes, but if we’d been anywhere else, I’d have been tanning her ass for that, no matter how old she was. Unfortunately, I wasn’t anywhere else. “You’re grounded for the rest of your life,” I quietly whispered, and let my body relax again.

I slid my arms down her flanks as I knelt, and used my tongue to trace a ribbon of saliva between her breasts and down past her navel. I stopped just short of her bared mons, but Olivia let out another one of those girl-on-fire moans.

“Nice, both of you,” our instructor commented, but I just wanted it to be over. We’d turned so Olivia was leaning against the table, and I heard chairs moving as Logan and Jocelyn abandoned their seats for better views.

Olivia’s pussy stared me in the face, completely exposed, but tight with just a hint of her lips protruding from the folds of flesh. It seemed too small for the things I’d seen in it, but I knew she’d have no difficulty taking my tongue, even dry. I just didn’t want to do it. The only thing I wanted less was to sit here, get lectured, and then have to do it anyway.

I made a show of extending my tongue a few inches, and then slowly inserting it into her. Olivia writhed beneath my touch, and looking up I could see she was theatrically mauling her boobs with both hands and moaning again.

“Nice tongue,” Jocelyn applauded.

“Good effort,” our instructor complemented Olivia. “Notice how, in addition to illustrating her arousal, Olivia’s hands hide her nipples?” In a different tone of voice, he added, “Tanya, are you mute?”

Stung, I rocked back on my knees for a moment. “No, I’m fucking busy here!” I snapped back. “Sir.” After struggling for a moment to get back into character, or whatever, I turned back to Olivia. “Oh, Baby!” I told her pussy, looking at it so the others couldn’t see my expression, “You taste so fucking great! I want to eat you up!”

I put my tongue where my mouth was, ostentatiously working its full length in and out of Olivia. That level of activity, with a few moans tossed in here and there, seemed to be sufficient to satisfy my taskmaster. I brought both hands up and spread her as wide as I could, sparing an occasional stroke for her hooded clit. I even earned my own, “Good!” for remembering to finger my dry slit while I worked Olivia.

Olivia started banging her butt against the table and hyperventilating, coached largely by Jocelyn. Shannon remained uncharacteristically silent, although I sensed by the set of her body that my daughter was looking at her. Finally, Olivia bucked and squealed before relaxing with a quiet, “Oh My God.”

I sat back and caught a breath. It would have been nice if Olivia had been faster; her crotch shone with my saliva and my tongue had been in and out of her so many times I’d even picked up a hint of her natural muskiness. Finally I gathered the courage to look at the others.

Apparently, we’d passed muster. Logan had stripped and was sporting an erection. Jocelyn flashed me a smile but didn’t stop the rhythmic motion of the fingers she’d slipped inside her shorts. Shannon had merely pulled up her feet and was stroking the damp fabric pulled tight against her crotch while she looked longingly at Olivia.

“Hey, what about me?” I demanded, feeling pissed off at Shannon for persisting in a lost cause, pissed off at Olivia for making me do this, and actually just pissed off at life in general. Olivia finally pulled her gaze away from the brunette and looked down at me. “How about some service? Here,” I added, pointing at my own crotch.

“That doesn’t seem very romantic,” Jocelyn mused.

“You’re missing the point, Jocelyn,” the instructor said, unexpectedly supporting me. “This isn’t about romance. It’s about arousal. Don’t make the mistake of imposing your value system on the client—that’s the wrong way around. If you find yourself in a room with some Domme who snaps at you and demands service, we expect you to convince her that you’ll cream yourself doing just that.” He crossed his arms. “You too, Olivia.”

“Of course,” he warned, turning his attention back to me, “Tanya has the same duty to persuade us she’s really getting off from this, if she really wants to go down this road. Proceed.”

None of that particularly made me feel any better, but I still felt peeved and I knew I wasn’t up to looking my daughter in the face and getting all lovey-dovey. “I’m waiting,” I told Olivia. “Snap snap!” I lay back on the carpeting and spread my legs.

Olivia gave me a wide-eyed look, but didn’t hesitate to crouch between my thighs and lower her face to my pussy. “Oh, put it in already, you lazy slut!” I gasped when she did exactly that; it felt like she’d forced the entire length of her extraordinarily long tongue into me.

“Like that?” she asked a moment later, when I was empty again.

“Like what?” I replied repressively. “I’m still waiting!”

She dove down again and speared me several times, using my technique of extending her tongue and moving it in and out with her whole body, as if it were a cock. I tried to focus on that thought, feeling the entire situation was ridiculous.

“That’s ridiculous,” I dismissed the effort. I felt a little bad for saying hurtful things to Olivia, but my qualms were quieted by the thought I was just playing a role, and by the ability to vent some of my frustration on somebody. “Are you doing anything at all down there?”

Olivia looked up at me and brushed a stray lock of blue hair out of her face. “Why do you hate other women so much, Mom?” she cried, surprising me. “Do I have to have a cock to be worth something? Well, I’m not Dad or Alex or Logan, but you can have this!” She pulled the fingers of her hand together into a point, and then rammed her hand into me.

I screamed in genuine pain and shock. I’d taken larger things inside me, some of them in this very room, but I’d been expecting them and I’d been lubricated. A little saliva wasn’t an adequate substitute. “Fuck, Olivia!” I moaned, unable to stop from cursing. “You hurt me!” I still couldn’t believe she’d really done it.

“Yeah, fuck Olivia,” she parroted, eyes still intense. “Fuck this, you misogynic cumslut!” I felt her form a fist inside me, pull out slightly, and then push again, hard enough to make my breasts jiggle.

“Are we still acting, ladies?” our instructor asked. Without my noticing he’d moved right up next to Olivia and now he hovered over her, looking dark and menacing.

Like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Olivia relaxed her fist and withdrew it. It still wasn’t pleasant, but it felt better than it had going in. Even now, the way she cringed away from him roused my protective instincts.

“Yes!” I answered him a little too loudly, and then repeated myself. “Yes, we’re just acting, right, Honey?”

Olivia swallowed her stupefied look and nodded her agreement.

“Interesting,” he commented, staring at us a moment longer. “Please contain your... enthusiasm. This is, after all, practice. While you may possibly be called upon to injure yourselves in the performance of some duty, that is never appropriate in the classroom. Injuring another student, without their consent, is grounds for immediate dismissal.” He handed a tube of lubricant to Olivia, who stared at it. “Continue.”

Did every act of altruism on my part have to twist to my detriment? I looked at Olivia, trying to will her into action before our threadbare ruse fell apart, but it seemed to take her forever to jerk back to life again. She popped the cap with a thumb and squeezed what looked like half the contents of the tube onto her hand.

When her hand went into me the second time, it was slower and slid slickly into my channel.

“Oh, fuck, that is so hot,” Logan sighed when he saw Olivia pull her fist out of me again, like I was giving birth to her hand.

“Fuck me with your fist,” I begged Olivia, forestalling a comment our instructor had been about to make. “Harder!”

“Like this?” she asked, regaining some of her animation, and pushing back into me. There was a moment of pressure, and then the fist slipped inside and I let out my breath.

“Harder!” I confirmed, and then braced myself and closed my eyes. It wasn’t too hard to pretend it was the bronc fucking me, rather than Olivia. Thinking back to the video we’d watched, I started cycling through a collection of moans sighs, and exclamations, timing each to the next penetration of my sex.

The jiggling of my boobs reminded me of an earlier comment, and I started rubbing them with my hands. They overflowed my grip, making me feel faintly ridiculous, so I switched to my nipples. Pinching and pulling them felt much more natural, and did an equally good job of concealing my lack of arousal.

I’d lost track of time but felt like we’d been at it long enough, so I started hyperventilating and switched to single-syllable words. “Fuck!” I suddenly repeated more loudly, and my eyes flew open at the sensation of something hitting my chest. Another rope of semen from Logan’s jerking cock splashed across my breasts and hands. “Logan!” I scolded him, and stopped any further pretense of enjoying myself.

“Sorry, Tanya,” he apologized, not looking particularly sorry, “but that was just too hot.” He jacked a last glob from the head of his cock and looked at me like he seriously thought I might clean it for him.

In his dreams, I growled inside. “That’s it! I’m done. It’s somebody else’s turn now.”

Olivia, who looked like she was fighting back a giggle, pulled her hand out of me; her skin was glistening up to nearly her elbow. She looked around and our instructor tossed her a towel.

I lay on the floor a moment longer, letting my breathing return to normal. Ironically, the temperature differential between the hot spunk and the cool air raised a few goose bumps and my nipples, but they melted away after just a moment. I had time to notice that Logan wasn’t the only person who’d apparently enjoyed our show, and then Olivia tossed the towel to me so I could wipe myself off.

“I think I need to pee,” I announced to nobody in particular; my bladder was still unhappy about that first penetration. After receiving a nod from the instructor, I headed for the door, figuring I’d pull on my clothes when I got back.

Naturally, that meant I nearly bumped into Lauren in the hall outside the conference room.

“Tanya, I was just looking for you,” she announced, all the while raking my naked body from head to toe with her eyes and wearing a supercilious expression.

“Well, you found me,” I responded sourly. I shifted my weight uneasily; my bladder had gotten the bathroom memo and now was disinclined to wait. I brushed a hand through my hair, trying to make myself more presentable, and realized I’d just streaked myself with an overlooked glob of jizz. I was sure body fluids aimed at Lauren would vaporize before they reached her tailored skirt suit, although I had seen her with cum in her hair that once.

“He’d like to see you upstairs on your lunch break.” Of course, it wasn’t really a request.

Both of us knew who she was talking about, although I was sure it gave her a perverse sense of pleasure than I still had no idea what Mr. Burns’ real name was. “I’ll be there. If you’ll excuse me?” I stalked away from her towards the bathroom, putting an exaggerated sway in my hips just in case she was still watching.

When I returned to the conference room, my mood wasn’t improved by the sight of Olivia and Shannon standing in the corner talking to each other. My daughter hadn’t gotten around to donning the shirt she held in one hand, and I watched one of Shannon’s hands drift idly from Olivia’s bared breast to an arm.

The girls broke apart as soon as they saw me, and Olivia hurried over. “Hey, Mom, I wanted to apologize,” she told me earnestly. “I shouldn’t have hurt you or lipped off that way. I’m really sorry I did it. You’re alright, aren’t you?”

I sighed and remembered why I loved her. “It’s forgotten, Honey,” I replied, and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m fine, and I’m not exactly blameless, either. The waiting is just getting on my nerves, you know?” I shrugged and hooked my shorts off the floor with a toe. “I just heard Mr. Burns wants to see me at lunch.”

Shannon, apparently reassured we weren’t going to attack each other, had drifted close enough to hear the last part. “Who?”

Pulling on my shorts occupied a minute, but then I had to answer the question and admit my ignorance. “The megalomaniac upstairs. I don’t know his name; we call him Mr. Burns. He wants to see me.”

Shannon started giggling, and in unison she and Olivia chorused, “Excellent, Smithers!” I couldn’t help smiling. “Falke,” Shannon gasped, failing to control her amusement. “His name is Mr. Falke; Charles, I think. But... Mr. Burns! Oh, it’s too true!”

Olivia turned serious. “You don’t think it’s about this morning, do you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t see how he could have heard anything; Lauren literally was waiting for me when I walked out of the room. I think it has to be something else.” I quickly sat down and shooed the girls towards their own chairs when our taskmaster assumed the pose I’d learned meant he was ready to continue with class.

“Okay, Shannon, I think you volunteered to be next?”

Of course, that was when she thought she’d get to make out with Olivia. If her disgust at being paired with Logan was evident, it was also clear she’d understood it was coming. She smiled briefly at a few whispered words from Olivia I didn’t catch, and started stripping.

Logan was already good to go, both sartorially and physically, but unlike the rest of us, he got a little extra preparation. “Logan, listen only to my words,” the instructor began after a spray from the musky perfume.

“Kaleidoscope. You find Shannon neither attractive nor repulsive. You have only platonic feelings of friendship for her. Physical intimacy with her is not arousing to you. Do you understand these instructions?”

“Yes,” the young man replied, with the focused woodenness I’d come to expect of pussies receiving direct commands.

“When you next hear me say the word ‘kaleidoscope,’ these directives will terminate, and your thoughts and feelings will return to the state that existed when I first said that word today. Do you understand this?”

Logan repeated, “Yes.” A few spritzes of neutralizing spray cleared the area and restored life to his expression. His cock had stabilized at a limp not-quite-half-mast.

“Sir, I don’t understand,” Olivia spoke up after watching Logan do something to the side of his cock with a little plastic plunger-looking thing. “Couldn’t you just tell him to be aroused, or not to be aroused at all if we’re supposed to be pretending?”

Much like ordinary teachers, ours didn’t seem to be able to resist a truly engaged student. “Men have a unique problem, Olivia. An erection is an obvious sign of physical arousal, the lack of which is not easily disguised in most cases. While we could be clever, it is far more expedient to rely on simple, proven medications.” He gestured at Logan, who was slowly inflating in front of our eyes.

“As for the mental state, I attempt merely to level the playing field. How much acting would you or Tanya have had to do if I’d just sprayed you? The point of this is not to fuck your brains out, but to practice pretending to do so.” He paused to see if we were following him. “Now, I have a more interesting question for you: what were you thinking of, when you were with Tanya, earlier?”

Olivia hesitated. “Well, not much, really.” My mental antennae quivered, the benefit of many more years with my daughter than this man had. “The video. What I’ve seen Jocelyn and Shannon do in class. Things I’d heard friends talk about in school.”

“How about you, Tanya?” he asked, looking my way.

“About the same,” I answered with a shrug.

“Yes,” he said, sounding unsurprised. “That’s a common problem with sluts, and another reason so few of them do well in this training. Most of the rest of us rely to a greater or lesser extent on our fantasies to help stimulate and guide our reactions. That’s a powerful tool all of you should nurture. To answer your original question, if I’d told Logan nothing aroused him, he’d be in the same boat as you—forced to rely entirely on mechanical, rote performance. This way, he’ll be able to draw on much more than that.” He turned his attention to Shannon, who stood quietly by her chair, and then Logan, who was fully erect. “You may proceed.”

They didn’t try anything clever. Shannon lubed up Logan’s manhood, and eased herself onto its length. I couldn’t remain focused on their pretend tryst, because my mind kept darting back to Mr. Burns. Or Mr. Falke, apparently. Why now? It had been more than a month since the incident at the mall. What could have changed after all this time?

An hour earlier and I might have laughed, or been annoyed, at the way the pair across the table had oriented themselves to face us while Shannon got a brisk stand-up fuck from behind. I completely tuned out her vocal histrionics and didn’t even turn my head to see if Olivia was returning Shannon’s heated looks. My appointments upstairs were always first thing in the morning. Why the change? What was going on? Damn Mr. Falke, anyway!

“Are we boring you, Tanya?”

I started and realized Shannon was back at her chair, holding her hair out of the way, while Olivia used a towel to wipe a large amount of Logan’s semen off her back. My face heated under the scrutiny of the others. “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir,” I stammered.

He didn’t look impressed. “I think you’ll have an easier time concentrating if you come up here and give Jocelyn a hand.” His smile was the one we saw most often, humorless and fleeting.

“Can’t Logan do it?” I whined; he was still rock-hard, but perhaps he and Jocelyn were being separated for the same reason Olivia and Shannon had. I knew the question was a mistake the moment it left my lips.

“You’ll do it,” he barked, “because I said so. In fact, I think we’ll kill a few birds with one stone. Both of you, get up here. Don’t bother undressing.”

I tried to reassure Olivia, but I didn’t think I was very successful. He’d made it clear at the beginning of the course that discipline was important, and I’d made the mistake of forgetting it. Even Jocelyn’s perkiness wilted a bit under the strength of his glare, but most of it was reserved for me.

“Tanya,” the lecture began, “I understand you have concerns. But in this room, your only concern is doing what I tell you to do, promptly and courteously. I’m not doing this for my health; if you can’t get with the program, you can leave—and not come back. Is that what you want?”

I shook my head.

“Then get over your hang-ups! Olivia is not going to die if Shannon kisses her.” I thought I heard a muffled snort from behind me. ”You are not going to die from a little female contact. Now, I can’t do anything about your upbringing, but you’re going to get used to it now. You will, at least, pretend to enjoy it. If necessary, I can make you enjoy it. Will that be necessary?”

He gestured slightly towards the case of sprays, even as I shook my head more vigorously.

“Good. Then all that remains is a reminder that, whatever privileged position you may believe you occupy elsewhere, here you are one of my students—no more and no less. I believe a little corporal punishment is in order to reinforce this point.”

He couldn’t be serious, but I knew he was. Worse, I sensed he wasn’t finished yet.

“You, Jocelyn,” he ordered, pointing, “will administer a spanking on my behalf. Anything that does not leave welts or draw blood is acceptable. Additionally, in the spirit of this morning’s demonstrations, you will convince us you find this highly arousing. Questions?”

“Yes, Sir. I should pretend to cum, then? Just from, um, punishing Tanya?” Jocelyn sounded uncharacteristically meek.

“Correct. You may wish to have her eat you or use some other form of interaction if needed to make it seem more believable.” He turned his stare on me, and I felt about three feet tall. “Tanya. As your initial attempt was interrupted, you now have another opportunity to practice. You are being punished in order to maintain classroom discipline. However, you too will persuade us that this act has brought you to orgasm. Questions?”

I shook my head, since screaming, “You sick bastard!” at him wasn’t a question and probably wouldn’t help matters.

“Very well. To answer the question neither of you asked; Jocelyn, you will continue Tanya’s spanking until you feel, in your sole estimation, that she has produced a credible ‘orgasm’.”

Jocelyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and I felt myself relaxing a little.

“However,” he continued, making me catch my breath, “if I feel, in my sole estimation, that you have been excessively lenient in making that determination, I will take over and continue to discipline both of you equally. Questions?”

I gulped.

“Aren’t you going to gas her, Sir?” Shannon asked.

He shook his head. “It would be counterproductive in this case. I feel confident this is not something Jocelyn finds arousing”—she nodded emphatically, looking a little pale—“and I do not wish to provide any unnecessary mental crutches.” He looked at the blonde and spoke a little more gently. “You cannot always be bright and bubbly, and shy away from hard things, Jocelyn; learn from this.”

With that, he sat in the rarely-used chair pushed back against the wall and crossed his arms. “Proceed.”

We looked at each other, and I wasn’t sure which of us was the more uncertain. Jocelyn looked like a deer in headlights. Finally, she mouthed a word that might have been “sorry” and snapped, “You get those pants off, Missy!”

Reluctantly, I pushed my shorts down my legs and stepped out of them. I watched Jocelyn eye the armchairs surrounding the table.

“I believe you want the stool in the corner,” our instructor commented. It was either an upholstered stool or a small ottoman, on wheels, and Jocelyn smiled when she saw it.

She rolled it a little ways out and sat down on it. “Across my lap, now,” she gestured to me.

I glumly lay down as ordered. The only thing that made it bearable was that I was looking at the wall and not any of the others. That happy thought lasted only long enough for Jocelyn to land one incredibly inept slap on my butt. I jerked in surprise, but it was nowhere near hard enough to be painful.

“Oops,” she said. “Tanya, Missy, I mean, turn around so you’re facing the other way.”

That left me looking at our impassive instructor, and lined up my ass with her right hand. The next blow was substantially harder. “Ow!” I complained, uselessly.

“Quiet, Missy!” Jocelyn hissed, slapping me several more times. There was dead silence from the rest of the room.

“If I may,” our instructor finally interjected, rising to his feet. “No, please continue,” he added when Jocelyn hesitated. “I merely wish to offer a few suggestions.”

She belted me again, the hardest blow yet, and we both hissed as my body rocked against her legs.

“Don’t feel you need to be so forceful, Jocelyn. Control is more important than brute strength; if you need a few more strokes, well, Tanya isn’t going anywhere.” He chuckled and I gritted my teeth, and then jerked beneath another slap.

“Now, if you were spanking a submissive who enjoyed this, you’d want to change things up. Try keeping your wrist loose, experiment with keeping your fingers spread apart or close together, and most importantly, vary the pacing, placement, and force of each blow. You want her always guessing about what will come next!”

What came next was a hellish interlude of spanking that eventually left me feeling like my entire ass was on fire. I concentrated on enduring rather than acting, but the conversation above my head seemed to distract them sufficiently that my slacking avoided notice.

“Her ass is so red!” Jocelyn exclaimed in awed tones. She ran a hand that felt like sandpaper over my sensitized skin. The pain was excruciating, but I realized it had come on so gradually that I’d acclimated myself to it. Mostly. It was like sitting in a tub while it filled with near-scalding hot water, instead of trying to step into it after it was full.

“Very,” he agreed. “At this stage, you’ve reached the point of diminishing returns. When she’s really tanned like this, you can return to it periodically to remind her of it, but you want to move on to other areas.”

“Where else can I spank her, Sir?” asked Jocelyn breathlessly.

“With your open hand, nearly anywhere. Probably the most popular choices are anywhere in her genital area, her upper thighs, and breasts. The soles of her feet are good too, but sometimes they’re tougher than your palm is.”

Two swats fell in swift succession across my upper leg and I bit my lip.

“What about with a belt or paddle, or a whip?”

I couldn’t keep a tiny whimper from escaping. There was a long pause, during which the only sound in the room was the crack of Jocelyn’s hand against the crease in my buns.

“Not today,” he finally answered. “Those require skill to use without inflicting injuries. Perhaps another day, if you are still interested.”

“I was just asking,” Jocelyn said in her normal voice, while one hand squeezed my ass and then gave it another small slap. “Stand up,” she abruptly told me, and pushed me out of her lap.

Off-balance and desperate to avoid sitting on my abused butt, I scrambled and managed to come to my feet without mishap. Poor Olivia was gripping Shannon’s hand and staring at me like I was being tortured, which I guessed was sort of true.

“Look at me,” demanded Jocelyn, stepping into my view. I was taller than she was, and probably about twice her age, but there was no question who was in charge. “You like this, don’t you, Missy?” she asked, looking me in the eye.

I almost asked her if she was out of her mind, but then I remembered the saturnine presence hovering at my side and what we were supposed to be doing. “Oh, yes!” I simpered, channeling memories of Olivia when she was trying to butter me up for some favor.

“Remove your shirt.” That was the easiest thing I’d had to do since this bad dream started, and I didn’t hesitate to pull it over my head and toss it aside.

“Kiss my hand to thank it for marking you.” She imperiously extended it, allowing me to examine the reddened palm.

Where did she come up with this stuff, I wondered. I started thinking more actively about how I was going to get out of this. Unfortunately, that meant faking an orgasm good enough to give her an excuse to stop; I couldn’t just stand there and start wailing like a cat in heat. “Yes, Ma’am,” I cooed. A little kiss on the palm seemed too tame, so I proceeded to run my tongue over every little bit of her palm and sucked her fingers, one at a time, into my mouth. Finally at a loss on how to proceed, I just stopped and looked for more orders.

Jocelyn left me standing and slowly moved around me. Crack! Up to that point, my left cheek had gotten off relatively lightly due to its position. I screamed, trying to turn it into a moan or something at the last moment. My saliva on her hand had intensified the sensation; I wanted to turn and look but forced myself to keep staring ahead, ignoring Olivia’s attempts to catch my eye.

“It’s not fair to let you have all the fun, Missy,” Jocelyn told me when she was back in front of me. Her eyes didn’t match the light tone of voice, and I was having trouble reading her. “I think I’ll let you kiss me where you’d like to be spanked.”

I harbored a faint thought of kissing that smirking pig right on the lips if it meant she’d belt him, but I knew it was just a fantasy. I forced my thoughts in more profitable directions; how serious was she, and what would hurt the least? I took a step forward and kissed her on the mouth; I kept my tongue to myself, but it was more than a social kiss.

When I stepped back, Jocelyn’s eyes slid sideways momentarily and I watched her chew on the corner of her lip. For a second, I thought she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, but then her expression tightened and she raised her hand. I fought the instinct to flinch, but her slap was much harder than I’d expected. My head whipped to the right under the force of her hand and I saw stars.

“Mom!” Olivia screamed, and I caught a glimpse of her struggling with Shannon before Jocelyn blocked my view. I ran a finger along my lip, looking for blood, but didn’t find any.

“Your kiss was displeasing; repeat it.”

I think I was a heartbeat from stalking out the door and to hell with all of them, but I didn’t want to give our tormentor the satisfaction and Jocelyn’s eyes pinned me in place. “Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled, and tried again. I put everything I had into it, pressing myself against Jocelyn and running my hands through her hair while my tongue darted between our lips to grapple with hers.

When we parted, Jocelyn looked as surprised as I’d felt after she’d slapped me. I flinched when she raised her hand again, but she held it until I straightened. She swung, but pulled nearly all of the strength behind her blow, leaving about the force I would have used to swat a fly on my arm. My cheek stung, but it was nothing compared to what I’d already endured.

“Acceptable, this time. Choose another location, Missy.”

It was pretty clear that, whatever the reason, she was serious about it. I thought about the list of places our instructor had mentioned; I suspected I’d have to come back to them eventually, and ducking the issue looked like a way to just get me beaten up even more. “May I remove your shirt, Ma’am?”

“Proceed, Missy.” She raised her arms over her head, but did nothing more, leaving it to me.

I touched her bare midriff, and then ran my hands upwards under the stretchy fabric, pushing it ahead of me until it popped over her full breasts. I caressed them in passing, and then pulled the shirt over her head and off her arms. It joined mine in the corner. Once freed, Jocelyn lowered her arms but did nothing else.

My lips encircled her nipple, finding it partially erect. A corner of my mind cried foul but I wasn’t willing to risk getting myself into an even worse predicament by mentioning it. I stroked her smooth flanks while I nursed, then pulled back and straightened.

She didn’t hesitate this time, and I took the blow fairly well. It hardly stung at all, compared to my face and ass, and I knew I could take several more like it without problems.

Before Jocelyn could say anything, I kissed her tit again, but this time I kneaded it with my hands and sucked as much of it into my mouth as I could, while my tongue lashed at her turgid nipple. When I released it, her breast glistened with my saliva and the nipple stood stiff, although I knew nobody sitting at the table could see it. “Harder, please, Ma’am,” I husked, trying to sound like I had the night I’d invited Jose into my bed for the first time.

I didn’t know if the slap really was harder, but I felt the sting, and pushed it aside. I switched to the other side, worshipping that breast until the nipple was plump and engorged like its twin, and they both heaved with Jocelyn’s every breath. “Harder, please, Ma’am,” I begged before every blow, and didn’t bother trying to hold back the small moans of pain that came each time she hit me—a moan was a moan, and who was to know it wasn’t passion?

Jocelyn surprised me by holding up her hand, palm out. “Acceptable, Missy. Choose another location.” I looked down, surprised to see my breasts were reddened all over, as if I’d gotten mild sunburn. How long had we been doing this?

“Permission to remove your shorts, Ma’am?” There really was nowhere else to go.

She moved her feet slightly apart. “Proceed, Missy.”

I hooked my fingers in her waistband and slid it over her hips and down her legs, gliding my fingers down the smooth skin all the way to her ankles instead of just letting the material drop. She lifted and replaced each foot, allowing me to free her shorts and toss them aside.

There was a hint of moisture in her bare slit, but I was deathly afraid of getting slapped there. The bikini waxing of my old life had been a painful torment. Hoping I’d had a long enough reprieve, I crawled on hands and knees and looked up at Jocelyn’s tight ass. The faint outline of a swimsuit more akin to a thong than a bikini dove into the top of her crack.

I rose awkwardly on my knees, unwilling to sit back on my heels, and planted a sloppy kiss on the center of one bun while I caressed her with my hands.

Jocelyn spun around the instant I pulled back. “Completely unacceptable, Missy!” she barked, a fey look in her eyes. She pushed me back onto my hands, quickly knelt, and delivered a roundhouse that nearly sent me sprawling.

My ass radiated pain, wakened from slumber by the spank. “Harder, please, Ma’am!” I gasped out, mostly because it seemed to be expected at this point.

She answered immediately with a slap on the other cheek that elicited another strangled gasp from me. “Again, Missy! Don’t disappoint me.” As quickly as she’d knelt, Jocelyn stood up again and faced away from me, feet slightly apart.

What had gotten into the girl? I struggled back into position behind her, trying to collect my tattered composure. I saw an out-of-place bead of moisture on her inner thigh. Nobody was sweating in the air-conditioned room, and it couldn’t be my saliva.

The answer burst in my mind like an exploding light bulb. I, the woman with a tongue the size of many men’s’ cocks, was crouched behind the girl who was all about anal sex. I was not all about anal sex, especially rimming somebody else. I spread her cheeks apart, and kissed my way down the crevice, stopping short of her rosebud and hoping it would be enough. I saw more rivulets between her thighs when I backed off.

The look on her face when Jocelyn turned around told me I shouldn’t have bothered to try. “I’m very disappointed, Missy,” she told me sternly. “What am I to do with you?”

“Please spank me, Ma’am,” I husked, my voice rough with dread rather than passion. “Hard,” I added, knowing she would anyway.

I didn’t know if anybody else caught the significance of the motion when she brushed her hand across her crotch, but the moisture on Jocelyn’s palm seemed to double the pain that flooded across my abused skin and down my tingling nerves. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” I yelped, overwhelmed by the trio of blows, and shaking like a leaf. Olivia and Shannon told me later it was a very convincing orgasm, but it was the furthest thing from my mind at that point, and I wasn’t the one who counted.

“Kiss me the way you know I like it, Missy,” Jocelyn told me, and turned away again. The unspoken “or else” hovered in the air between us.

I was too beat up to fight her any longer. I spread her cheeks again, but this time my tongue moved immediately to her puckered sphincter. It was immaculately clean, for a blessing, and I felt it relax under the pressure of my prodding. My tongue extended further, poking into her, and she tightened up around me.

That didn’t mean anything to my agile, elongated muscle, and I speared it further into Jocelyn’s rectum. At nearly full extension, I started wriggling and curling it, doing things you couldn’t do in a million years with a cock or dildo. The blonde’s body jerked suddenly in my hands, and I knew she’d just climaxed. A subtle, understated, Jocelyn-esque orgasm, but none the less real for all of that. I sawed in and out a couple more times just to be sure, but I was convinced she’d gotten off. In a way, I was betting my ass on it.

I didn’t know how anybody looking at Jocelyn could not realize what had just happened, but the room was silent except for our labored breathing. She knelt beside me again, and it was hard not to flinch away from her touch—especially when she ran her hand across her dripping slit again.

“Completely acceptable, Missy,” was the verdict, as she ran her hand slowly down the crack of my ass, until a fingertip brushed my clenched rosebud for a moment before it was withdrawn. I still nearly levitated off the floor when she gave me a tiny slap.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said, uncertain what else I could say.

“There’s only one place left to kiss, isn’t there, Missy?” Jocelyn asked.

I moaned, fearing for my poor pubis.

“Yes, poor Missy. You must want it very badly, don’t you?”

Like a hole in the head. I whispered, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Roll over on your back, then, and spread your legs.”

I hissed with pain when my butt came in contact with the carpeting, and again when I had to put a little more weight on it to part my legs. I had a moment to stare at the ceiling, and then Jocelyn was swinging herself over me and crouching atop my face. At this range, the musk of her arousal surrounded me like a cloud, but unlike the cologne, it aroused no answering passion in me.

“Proceed, Missy,” her voice sounded from somewhere over my mons.

I gingerly extended my tongue and licked a few dewdrops from her swollen lips. This time, the feedback was immediate; a stinging slap landed on my most tender flesh, magnified by the heightened burning of my ass against the carpet. “Inadequate! Again!” Jocelyn demanded.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, and took another lick. After just a few such exchanges, Jocelyn lowered herself completely onto my face and began paddling me nearly continuously. In retrospect, it saved me from having to say anything, or saying something inappropriate like, “I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch!”

All I could think of was that she was leaking on my face more than ever and that if I survived, I wouldn’t be able to wear clothing for a week. The pain was all-encompassing and I jerked like a landed fish, trying helplessly to evade Jocelyn’s blows or throw her off or somehow reduce the aching of my ass and pussy. In its way, it was nearly as bad as my first visit to Mr. Falke’s office.

Finally, I realized all of the motion had stopped, and the pain had receded to a dull ache. I stared blearily upwards as Jocelyn stood up, still straddling my head.

“Acceptable, Missy. You are dismissed.” She strode off, leaving me lying there like I was dead—which was pretty much the way I felt.

Olivia was beside me a moment later. “Jesus, Mom! Are you okay?” It sounded like she was crying. “I swear I’m gonna kill her!”

“Is it over?” I asked, trying to get my bearings.

I realized Shannon was kneeling on my other side. “Yeah, he dismissed class for lunch. Didn’t you hear?”

“No,” I admitted, trying without much success to sit up. The girls grabbed my arms and hauled me into a sitting position, which didn’t do my butt any good. “I’m okay,” I protested automatically. “Leave Jocelyn alone, okay? She was just doing what she had to.” We stared at each other for a long minute before the girls broke eye contact with me.

“Hey, you’re wet,” Olivia observed, looking at me more closely. “What happened?”

Despite the fact she’d just beaten the living daylights out of me, the old school code was still ingrained in me: never rat out a fellow student. “I was crying, at the end,” I admitted, which was true as far as it went. “I think I might have peed myself a little, too,” which was an outright lie. Shannon narrowed her eyes but held her silence.

For the second time that morning, I walked down the hall to the bathroom stark naked. Some guy in a suit gawked as we passed each other, but I just ignored him.

The mirror told a sobering story. I had just-been-fucked hair, a fat lower lip, and my choice of a sunburn or virulent rash that completely covered my breasts, pubic area, and buns. I stood at the sink and rinsed Jocelyn’s spend from my face, and considered my crotch. I knew she’d been using a wet hand to spank me, but there did seem to be rather more dampness than I’d expected, and I really didn’t think I’d peed. I blotted myself gingerly with a damp washcloth and called it done.

I pulled my fingers through my hair a few times, shook my head twice, and watched the engineered blue strands fall into neat blue waves that looked like I’d spent an hour with a blow dryer and styling mousse. Why the idiots in charge persisted in peddling sex instead of marketing things like that were beyond me. They could have made an absolute killing in a totally legitimate business. I was sure the boss was male.

Feeling more or less put-together, I trudged back to the conference room. The girls were already back.

“You were right,” said Olivia. “Here, if you think it will fit.” She handed me the sundress; I’d gotten it originally as a cover-up for the beach or pool, and it had languished in the back of the car since last summer.

It was closer to transparent than opaque, very tight across my bust, and a little scratchy to boot. I was also convinced I was infinitely better off wearing it instead of our tight-fitting uniform.

Shannon looked at me and lost her battle with a grin. “It makes you look pregnant, which is pretty impressive if you think about it.” The garment fell straight from my tits, leaving a cavernous amount of space between it and my Barbie-sized waist.

“Fine,” I responded. “Maybe it will convince Chuck to keep his hands to himself.”

“I’ve heard he’s had men killed for calling him ‘Charles’,” retorted Shannon with a deadpan delivery that left me completely unsure if she was joking.

“Well, Mr. Falke, then.” I decided.

“Shouldn’t we come with you?” Olivia asked, obviously feeling protective.

“He doesn’t bite,” I reminded her. Much worse things, I thought to myself, but not biting. “I’ll be fine. Just save me a bit of brown rice, okay? I couldn’t eat a thing now, but I’ll be hungry later.”

I gave Olivia a quick kiss on the forehead, and after a quick thought, surprised Shannon with a peck, too. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t if I were watching.” It took a second and then we all laughed.

Thus fortified, I marched off to the elevator to meet the dragon in his lair.