Misty and the Spanking Team

Set in a version of "the real world," Aimee and her roommate want to join the FoxTails Girl's College Spanking Team--a 'club' they've only heard rumors about!

All characters over the age of 18

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Foxtail Freshgirl Misty Colter

The FoxTails Girls College had electric trams that ran regularly from the main campus to a handful of "offsite" campuses about the town. Upperclassmen ("Upperclassgirls" in the FoxTails vernacular) could walk, bike, or drive themselves--but freshmen ('freshgirls!') and sophomores had to take the trams (or get driven by an upperclassman). The Trams tended to go at a smooth, steady 30mph and people in the town gave them plenty of space. The front had rows of comfortable seats like an airline. The back had a section with overhead bars and hanging leather straps for students who preferred to stand.

Misty preferred to stand. She was a "freshgirl" at FoxTails and her first month had been a trial. She'd grown up in a 'legacy' household with two older sisters and, being a keenly intelligent girl, had made a history of avoiding much of the common and intricate punishments her parents (both of whom had gone to schools in the 'network' of FoxTails-like schools) imposed. Her mousy demeanor and quiet, inoffensive behavior was only partially innate. She'd become an expert at 'hiding in plain sight.'

Where both her sisters had cheerfully gone to in-network schools, Misty's plan (quietly announced) had been to finish high school with a nearly perfect GPA and go to some avowedly non-network school on a scholarship! She certainly wasn't going to ditch her family, but she felt a sense of triumph at escaping the intriguing--but humiliating discipline her sisters (and her, a little bit) had faced. She'd deal with her parents on HER terms. Once she was away, she could refuse the indignities, masturbate all she wanted in the privacy of her own bed or bathrooms (the bathrooms at home didn't lock). She could enjoy the meticulous punishments her mother dealt out safely from afar.

That had been her plan. It had all come crashing down weeks before her 18th birthday when the school resource officer had checked her backpack in a horrible, unexpected spot-inspection and found her stash of THC gummies (illegal in her state--not to mention for minors), and ecstasy tablets--a bunch of them. She'd been hauled down to jail. It wasn't her first misbehavior by far. She'd egged houses, keyed a teacher's car, shoplifted a bit, and undertaken forbidden sexual escapades (including scissoring, which would be sternly punished!). She'd been extremely careful, never getting caught. In fact, she'd been on her way to drop off her stash in a secure hiding place when the fucking SRO had swooped down and showed her badge and searched the backpack.

Misty had broken immediately and begged the police woman not to tell her parents--especially her mother. It had fallen on deaf ears. There were enough pills in there to possibly get her for intent-to-sell. In short order, she was facing expulsion, getting her college acceptance rejected, and, potentially, jail.

It had been a nightmare, and the way out--the only one that worked out--was to throw herself on the mercy of her parents and get them fully behind her with their considerable resources. It had worked, the charges on hold, her lawyers working with the school for a smooth graduation. Her mother's requirement had been, simply, that she go to FoxTails.

She had never agreed to anything so quickly. Now, weeks in, she had thought several times that prison might have been a preferable alternative.

She was in the 'Watchtower' Punishment Dorm--a small dorm for girls whose parents thought needed additional oversight, structure, discipline, and when even a step out of line, correction!. In Misty's case, she was on a "punishment program" that would stand in for the discipline her parents would have imposed if she'd been home.

Her dorm room was awful! It had no door, and the shared bathrooms had no dividers or stalls whatsoever. There were two fearsome RAs who could inspect anything or anyone and had authority to deal out punishments--starting with a bare-bottom spanking and increasing from there!

She had also been assigned a personal counselor, Mrs. Litmer, a young woman a few years older than Misty, but undeniably an adult. Her office had pictures of her cats, a framed photograph of her with an insanely handsome young man standing before some kind of exotic sports car. He was smiling easily, and she was blushing, and grinning, clearly chagrined at being caught by surprise by the photographer. In the reflection along the smooth surface of the car, Misty was pretty sure her stylish dress was missing an oval that framed her buttocks.

Mrs. Litmer had put her on a "maintenance schedule"--that was two spankings a week (Monday and Thursday) even if she had good behavior! Supposedly this was meant to keep her focused, and 'get her used' to being under strict, demanding discipline, but Mrs. Litmer had added that a key benefit of 'maintenance' was to make sure she was kept properly "in her place."

The ping-pong paddle, hanging behind her desk, had a leather wrapped handle reinforced and a smooth hard-rubber surface lay over a rigid carbon-fiber blade with a 98-score sponge-rubber hardness. For a game-paddle it would have been ridiculously aggressive. As a spanking implement, it was... harsh. Mrs. Litmer used it lightly, but even a mild, slow application left Misty howling over her lap. It wasn't just the spanking though-- the process of removing her clothes (every stitch, save for her socks) felt overwhelmingly awful and tear-inducing even before the first smack!

On her first maintenance, it was an awful wake-up-call. The exercise of laying over the woman's lap, bare bottom and feeling the bite of the paddle, was a terribly surprising experience! It was an electric shock of pain and she knew the reception-girl out in front of the counselor's section had heard her howls clearly. She'd poked her head in after with a fresh box of tissues "just in case" Mrs. Litmer needed them! She'd been crying like a child in the corner, still naked. The humiliation was unbearable.

Mrs. Litmer had wiped her tears, after 5 minutes, explaining that corner time was usually longer--but her history of "hiding" meant she was ill-prepared for discipline (and lacked self discipline) but her counselor would only make so many allowances. She'd been given a stuffed animal to hold, told to lay on the couch (on a towel Mrs. Litmer put down) for the rest of her time. She'd HATED the demeaning treatment--but it had been better than squirming in the corner, hands on her head, desperate to rub her blazing buttocks.

The sound of a sniff from Ms. Litmer, mortifyingly told Misty that the woman could smell the lubrication she'd leaked all over her thighs during the spanking. She'd cried even harder into the stuffed giraffe. Mrs. Litmer had given her a pamphlet on how 'Masturbation after Chastisement was to be Avoided'.

She'd been unable to hold her tears, crossing campus, and had failed to take the required step of informing her RA she'd been punished (so as to be observed for illicit self-pleasuring) and so got another mild punishment of having to wear neon-bright, buckle-on pajamas with thick padding in the gusset of the pants around the dorms all weekend. The RA had gone easy on the hand-spanking, providing just a few light slaps as Misty fairly bawled over her lap.

The Watch-cunt dorms, as her roommate called them (quietly, and in private), true to that name, provided her with no opportunity to address the awful need in her sex. It had been a miserable week and she'd felt that her mother's victory might have come late--but was infuriatingly complete.

Halcyon Campus

The tram coasted into the small complex of buildings that made up the Halcyon Campus. Unlike FoxTails proper, Halcyon integrated students from both FoxTails (the girl's school) and Foxtrot University (the boy's school). It seemed students in the off-campus location came from the upperclassmen (upperclassgirls), and students with some disciplinary history. Several Watchtower girls had classes assigned there... and Misty had two. That was interesting, she'd thought--but quickly realized that it was, if anything, more intimidating.

Male "prefects" with small badges on their school uniforms (slacks and a sweater vest over long sleeve shirts) stood about the interior courtyard, calmly watching the students go about their classes. The posted rules gave them permission to inspect anything and assign discipline for any reason at all. They wore small rubber paddles in holster cases on their belts.

She also discovered there were actual pillories in the bathrooms (which had stalls that closed but didn't lock) and each of the four buildings had a "detention room" to which malefactors could be sent. Misty was intensely curious about what went on in there--but she knew the easiest way to find out would be unacceptable.

She discovered she was terrified of the handsome boys confidently nodding to the girls as they passed into the building. She was horrified she'd be inspected--she knew her panties would not pass a hygiene inspection: they were damp, and would eventually dry--but the two classes she had on the Halcyon Campus didn't help that.

Neither Domestic Followship (the converse of 'Leadership') and Introduction to Sexual Technique did not appear on Foxtail's public curricula, but they were open to any student who knew to ask and required for 'remands' like Misty. Mrs. Litmer had explained that part of Foxtail's mission was to ensure young ladies who matriculated there were prepared to be successful members of a domestic partnership, and the skills they'd learn in those classes would serve them well when they were "ready to start that part of their lives."

Misty found both classes a bit overwhelming--horrifying, infuriating, and intriguing. She got butterflies in her stomach thinking about it and on days she had to sit and listen, she felt an uncomfortable heat in her face, a growing, insistent tension in her lower regions.

Domestic Followship was taught by a cheerful young woman and covered how to perform proper, eager submission and self-subjugation for your household leader (presumably a boy--but, the young woman allowed, also a girl--FoxTails was perfectly okay with 'sapphic' relationships, just so long as they were properly established).

Followership included kneeling nearby while he dressed in the morning, ready to spring up and assist should he need anything, cleaning and cooking to a tight schedule so that when he got home, you were waiting, eager to assist him in relaxing. If there was sex, the submissive partner would stay in the wet spot as a show of her eagerness to accept some discomfort from the results of his attention, and so on.

The idea of a relationship with an explicit dominant man and submissive girl stoked outrage in her, but as the teacher described the humiliating services the girl would offer and Misty imagined herself in such a role, her imagination clouded with arousing, awful, intrusive images. The image in her textbook showed an agonizingly hot, Norman Rockwellesque painting of a young woman dressed in a nightgown, kneeling in front of her husband, taking his organ in her mouth, pleasuring him diligently as he shaved in the morning. She hated that picture, even as staring at it made her feel an urgency to masturbate.

Sexual Technique was even worse. It taught young women how to properly service a mate. It had started with the rule that a lower-mate (the FoxTails term for the submissive in the relationship) did not refuse anal sex. The teacher, a mature, stern woman--who was in her 40s and radiated authority--had explained that the students should be attentive to their anuses and keep them stretched enough to take a boy's cock should he wish it.

Positions, bearing down to open the channel when the cock was placed against it, and what to do if you hadn't had time to "empty out" were all covered in increasingly mortifying detail! She hadn't been the only girl given a soft reprimand for squirming with potentially more promised if they kept doing it.

She had both classes today and had come from her morning maintenance--so her rear echoed with the smarting of the spanks. She hadn't bawled like she had for the first week--the spanks were still light, and she had realized that despite the flares of pain in her buttocks, and her sniffling tears, the woman was taking it easy on her. Mrs. Litmer's pity was a comfort and also a further, miserable humiliation.

The tram parked behind a mural of smiling young women in different professional uniforms or dress--celebrating the diversity of the Halcyon ladies, while reminding everyone of their uncompromised femininity. Misty waited, scowling, her rear still hurting from the little vicious paddle--being 'put in her place' sucked!

Late to Class

The trams were slow; the loading and drop-off point was all the way across campus from the Feminine Studies building where Misty's seminar classes were held. Arriving on time was always a stressful struggle, and that was far worse when her morning included a paddling!

Still, it shouldn't have been a problem. It was a six or seven minute walk, and she had fifteen minutes to make it. More than enough time, she told herself, but even still, the slow, chatty girls ahead of her on the tram made her ire and frustration rise as they took their sweet time gathering their bags and stopping to laugh and smile instead of just... moving along!

Of course as a freshgirl--and a Watchtower girl--any sign of irritation could have serious consequences! She kept her eyes down, her sullen glare to herself.

At least it wasn't raining.

The real challenge was the quad--the broad, bright open space in the center of campus where everyone could see everyone and there was no place to hide. Misty was a hider. She'd perfected social invisibility in her teenage years, but here, out in the open, she felt like a field mouse under the eyes of circling raptors.

Then there were the boys.

When she'd heard that she'd be attending classes on mixed-gender campus, she'd assured herself that there was no way the young men would even be aware of the sorts of rules and consequences the Foxtail girls suffered under! Surely that would all be a discrete secret... wouldn't it?

But that turned out not to be the case. If most Halcyon's young men were blissfully unaware of the hidden structures of their school's networks, the Prefects certainly weren't. One look at them told Misty they knew exactly what was going on and had a finely tuned appreciation for the indignities the girls of Foxtails suffered.

The idea of them knowing made her stomach clench. The thought of one of them witnessing her correction or--far, far worse--administering it--sent her into an emotional tailspin she wasn't always able to recover from. In most cases she could avoid this by not thinking about it, but walking across campus, feeling their eyes on her, wondering what they could divine from her gait or the condition of her makeup, was intolerable.

And today, of all days, it was far worse. She'd fixed her hair and washed her face repeatedly in the bathroom after her paddling, fussing with her hair to try to get it back in perfect order, but she knew that her eyes, her cheeks, her hair all offered subtle clues of her morning's humiliation. She felt like her buttocks were somehow radiating light and heat through her underpants and skirt--a signal that the Boys of Halcyon could sense and react to.

Misty stood at the edge of the Quad, feeling an awful stew of heat and self-consciousness and then decided to take the long way around. I can make it if I just hurry, she thought. Walk fast--but don't run. Running was inelegant; it demonstrated a failure to plan ahead--Foxtail Ladies didn't unless they were out on the sports-field or in proper exercise attire!

A speed-walk was allowable, and she checked the time on her phone as she hurried down the hill toward the edge of campus and then turned left, taking her through the outer parking lots reserved for campus workers and new students.

She would have made it, not for two mistakes.

The first was a quick trip into the bathroom halfway there. Her nerves got to her, and she assured herself it wouldn't take long, but when she stepped inside, her breath caught. She'd seen pillories in the Halcyon's women's rooms before but for the first time, these were occupied and the tableau of humiliation froze her.

There were four stall areas, but two of them had the walls down. The toilets were still there--but... A girl occupied each one. They were modified to be designed as a lay-down pillory, occupant's head and hands through the holes, their aft regions, above the toilets, legs straddling the bowls. Both girls wore skirts that were still on, but that had been strategically pinned so that their sexes and buttocks were exposed over the basins. Hanging from a peg on the side of each pillory was a pair of panties, clearly removed from the occupant. One was plain white. One was lacy black and bright pink--utterly embarrassing. Worse: it had a thick sanitary pad stuck to it with a slight stain of discolored discharge.

Both girls looked miserably shocked to see her come in. She could see the wretched blush on their faces, their dangling hands and fingers, the looks of suffering in their eyes.

She stared. Their buttocks were not *displayed* thanks to the way the sides of the skirts were pinned, but she could see the fleshy arcs of the curves. They were both pink--the look of a spanking.

One of the girls moaned and, unable to hide or even look away, closed her eyes and let out a shuddering sob of utter humiliation. She'd been crying quite a bit from the look of her, and Misty couldn't blame her. This dreadful, mortifying display was obviously unbearable, and with no hope of 'enduring' it, she simply suffered.

The other girl seemed better composed, but worried and utterly disgraced. "Y-you can just use the other two," she said quietly, even more embarrassed to be the cause of a visitor's discomfort! "We-we're just b-being punished."

Misty should have gone immediately; her urgency was more psychological than physical--but her emotions had already been stirred, and she felt herself succumb to her curiosity. And mercy. "I know," she assured them. "I... get punished too."

The sobby girl burst into hot, fresh tears.. Misty's heart went out to her--oh, the poor thing was just dissolving in shame! "What did you do?"

"Smoking," the more composed of the two, admitted. Looking down. Ashamed. "We were smoking in here." A shudder ran through her. How many times had she castigated herself for being so stupid and incautious. "One of the Prefects caught us." She stared down at the tile, willing to do anything to turn back time, and knowing it was impossible.

"That's horrible," Misty said softly. "I'm so sorry--that's..." she wasn't sure what else to say. She knew that if she were the one locked in ignominy, her private region bared in degradation, helpless and exposed, words of comfort from a stranger wouldn't help much, especially compared to the merciless humiliation of being observed!

"I... I'll go," she told them, backing up... staring. Oh--this was... intense! Seeing another person punished had always been a quiet, private thrill for her, and seeing this made her sweat. Her desire for 'private time' to process it, reflect on it, dwell on the details, welled up inside her and made her linger just a moment longer, standing by the door, trying to absorb every little detail for later.

Then she left, flustered. Breathing hard. Feeling just a little lightheaded. You don't have time for this, some distant part of her brain scolded her. You need to go! But she ignored it. She had time--just enough!

Except she didn't. As she climbed the steps to the building her class was in, she caught her reflection in the glass doors and paused. Despite her efforts, she looked askew, disheveled, punished, standing out. She blushed, a shock of embarrassment and shame running through her.

She just could not imagine walking into Sexual Technique looking out of place--noticeable. She feverishly began to fix her outfit.

"Freshgirl," a voice to her left and behind her said--a male voice--one of the prefects. She froze, her voice catching in her throat. "Sorry to interrupt," said the boy. "Your blouse is untucked in the back there."

"Oh--sorry--" she fumbled. Was that enough to get her written up? In theory, maybe so.

"No, it's fine--just let me show you something." He took an elastic band hair tie and some of the material from the back of her blouse where it was hanging out. He twisted it into a tight knot of fabric, stretched the hair tie around it, twice, and thus secured, tucked it into the back of her waistband. "There," he said, "that'll stay in place all day."

"Thanks," she said, feeling warm and breathless. He was tall, handsome, with a swimmer's body and an easy, self-deprecating smile.

"Get going," he said with a nod hurrying her along.

By the time she reached the door to her classroom, she was late.

Mrs. Greenfield stood, in an elegant dress, at the front of the classroom. It had an old-fashioned black-board with chalk, and she held a yardstick as a pointer. A diagram of the midriff of a naked boy--both from the front and the back, the back drawing having his buttocks spread to show his anus.

"Ms Colter, please take your seat--and see me after class."

Ohh--ughh. Blushing furiously, Misty slid into her seat, feeling the glances from the girls around her.

"Today we're starting on male-female penis-in-vagina sex," said the older woman. "I expect you to already know about this, and some of you may even have tried it, but the intricacies and variations will need to be explained in detail to make you the best sexual subject you can be for your man."

"Today we're going to learn about Vaginal Dryness products to give your man a tighter, more pleasurable grip on his cock."

Her use of the vulgar term for 'penis' sent shudders of frisson through Misty and, she thought, others. The teachers used these terms to remind the girls that sexual service could feel degrading and that was acceptable. That it might even enhance the experience for both partners. The slide show covered both photographs and drawings of sex where the woman had taken steps to limit the amount of moisture in her vagina. The pictures didn't skimp on the expressions of discomfort on her face--apparently part of the 'appeal' for the boy would be knowing his girl was subjecting herself to it.

Misty found the whole thing enraging, and annoying, and despite herself somehow 'hot.' The females in the images were clearly not especially happy about being filmed in uncomfortable. compromising positions and acts--and the pinkness of their posteriors suggested that prior to the exercises, they had been 'encouraged' perhaps.

When someone raised her hand and asked about it, Mrs. Greenfield explained that while, in these cases, the girl assigned to the pictures was under punishment, every girl should expect a pre-intercourse spanking--probably a light one--to get their man in the mood.

"Dominating you should be arousing for him. Being dominated is arousing for each of you. I'm not going to inspect everyone's panties, but I think we know what we'd find if I did. We'll cover anal sex as a reward and as a punishment in later chapters, but you should all recognize that for most dominants, the exercise of power is an anaphrodisiac. It doesn't just have to be correctional--but it should be uncomfortable for the subject. As you continue your development, you'll come to understand that. As budding submissives, you may find this objectionable, but it is true, and as FoxTail girls, you'll understand that this arrangement is one of the most positive ones you can enter, even if it isn't easy or pleasant."

"Your homework is to get one of these vaginal drying products and wear it for a night from six PM to the next morning. Have your Resident Assistant verify the application. You are to write two pages about the experience of applying the cream and then experiencing it for the duration. Extra credit if your RA or other recognized authority figure tests your vagina with a phallus dildo. Class dismissed. Misty, please come see me."

Misty stood up, worried. She exchanged glances with a girl gathering her things next to her. The girl gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. It didn't help much. Misty made herself walk towards the front of the room, where Ms. Greenfield waited. She swallowed hard and presented herself before the stern woman. Now she had to pee terribly badly. Her bottom still smarted.

It was just her and Mrs. Greenfield at the front of the classroom as the last few girls looking over their shoulders at her with interest and concern, filed out. As thrilling as it was to see other girls getting punished, being the object of attention made it sting worse! She swallowed. Her counselor, Mrs. Litmer had been extremely clear that the maintenance spankings were in addition to any punishment she earned for misbehavior.

Mrs. Greenfield placed the yardstick down. Misty's eyes followed it.

"If I spank you," Mrs. Greenfield said, "It won't be with that."

"Oh," was all Misty could think of to say.

"Do you want to tell me why you were late?" Mrs. Greenfield asked, her voice less... stern than that of her lecture tone.

"I wasn't very late, ma'am," Misty said, her eyes bright. She looked up, hopeful, pleading into the taller, older woman's eyes, imploring her for sympathy. She also squeezed her thighs together. Now she really, really had to pee.

Mrs. Greenfield stroked under Misty's chin, raising it, studying her eyes.

Misty blinked rapidly. Her cheeks and ears burned with blush. She held still, frozen in place, only slight squirms from the various discomforts that coursed through her moved her body.

"Not very late," the teacher agreed, "but if I mark it in the system as I'm supposed to, your RAs will have a spanking and additional punishments of their own designs for you. Being an RA in those dorms is highly sought after by the right kind of girl--a cat wanting mice to play with."

"Please don't mark it," Misty begged. "Oh, please--I'm sorry!" Misty knew she was right. The RAs were constantly on the prowl for misbehavior, eager to find the badly behaved. They would be delighted to have her delivered right into their laps!

The woman pursed her lips. "Almost all you girls will get someone's claws sharpened on you--it might be best to get it out of the way early. "However, you're cute and delicate looking and I suppose there's a chance once they got their paws on you, you'd be their plaything all semester. I know when I was a Watchtower RA I'd have seen to that."

Misty swallowed thickly and begged with her eyes, as she squirmed.

Mrs. Greenfield's eyes sharpened. "Are we about to have an accident?"

"I really need to pee, miss," she whimpered.

Mrs. Greenfield; s mouth twitched--it might be disappointment or annoyance. "There will be a chapter on sex with a full bladder," she said. "But for now, I'm going to have you taken to the washrooms--escorted there and back--and then I will have decided what I'm going to do with you. I'm inclined to make it frightfully memorable, whatever it is. Now, I'm calling a prefect to escort you. Take your panties down, lay them on my desk, and wait for him to arrive. He's to keep an eye on you at all times. I want no argument or debate, Misty. Understood?"

Misty felt like she was burning up with horror as she fumbled with her clothing, struggling to lower her panties. 'Frightfully Memorable!?' 'Sharpened Claws!?" and--and calling a prefect! Oh, mercy! Oh, dread! She stumbled out of her underpants, feeling horribly bare and exposed--and slippery!--under her skirts with the idea of them coming up or off utterly intolerable!

It was a struggle not to break into torrents of tears--or fall on her knees and beg to be let off! But she stood and sniffled and handed the tangled cottons, soaked dark with shame, to Mrs. Greenfeld. Her hand was shaking. Her body always betrayed her in these tense situations--humiliated her!--but this was dreadful. The underpants were thick with oily discharge and, although she was clean, the smell was unmistakable. Misty felt she would choke with utter mortification as the older woman visually examined them. "You may go stand by the door until--ah! There we are."

The door opened. Misty turned--it was the boy she'd run into, standing there, looking concerned. This can't be happening, Misty thought. Somehow she didn't faint--or combust!--from complete, merciless embarrassment!

"Professor Greenfield?" He asked.

"Kelvin, please escort Misty to the toilets. Don't take your eyes off her. After she's done, bring her back here. She's due some discipline."

He looked very slightly taken aback, but then nodded, "Yes, ma'am. May I ask--"

"Take her before there's a puddle on my floor," Mrs. Greenfield said archly.

Misty moaned softly.

The boy, Kelvin, turned. "Come on," he said, his tone friendly. "Let's go."

She hustled out of the room, feeling warm, damp lubrication smear on her thighs.

He took her down the hall, moving quickly with her.

"Because I was late," she said, thickly.

"Yeah," he said. "Professor Greenfield is one of the worst ones to break rules with when you're a freshgirl. She's not as mean as she comes off--but her sense of punishment can be downright cruel."

Misty choked down a whimper.

He took her into the bathroom. Another girl was at the sinks and looked over with a momentary look of shock at the prefect boy leading Misty in by the elbow. She quickly recognized his authority, though, and grabbed her bag, hurrying out. He took Misty to the far stall and opened it.

"Go," he said stepping in after her. He made a point of studying the tile over her head, not that it helped. If she hadn't been desperate, she'd have been completely unable to pee. As it was, she barely got seated and her skirts entirely out of the way, when the sound of her voiding filled the stall, seeming thunderously loud.

She bent forward, face in her hands. Doing this in front of him was agony, only vaguely lessened by her understanding that he fully understood her situation and was no stranger to punishment.

"I know it's embarrassing," Kelvin said. "Trust me, I understand."

How could he!?? Wondered Misty, but she stayed, hunched over, bearing down on her bladder, the stream seeming to take forever to subside.

"Will she turn me in?" she asked thickly.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "Most of the faculty would. As far as they're concerned, it's all actions and consequences. I mean, their thinking is, if you're in the Watchtower dorm, you're due some 'discomfort.'" He didn't sound particularly happy about it.

"Why's she making you watch me?"

"Mostly to make a point to you," he said. "She thinks you're inclined to masturbate and wants to underscore you won't get much of a chance."

Misty sat, letting her bladder empty so only a few drips came. The idea of a boy about her age--a fellow student--talking casually about her need to masturbate was surreally horrible, and yet she felt herself sort of sinking into accepting him as an authority high above her. One whom she had no expectation of privacy from. As she squatted, head hung, dripping, a question came to her.

"Those girls in the pillories," she asked. "Do you--prefects--punish them?" It was the only thing she could think of that could make their sentence even more dreadful, and as she asked she was sure the boys were in charge of that chore, too.

"Yes," he said simply. She detected a slight discomfort in his tone, though. As if he worried that if he fully explained it might be too much for her. Then, "They're given a slightly modified form of castor-oil--a spoonful, before being locked in. In case the discomfort overcomes them, they get a check every hour and a cleaning, if required. It's why they're positioned over the commode."

She shuddered. "That's horrible!" She tried to imagine losing control of that and she simply couldn't. All she could think of was how despairing being locked there and struggling with a disgraceful sense of THAT urgency would be!

"Clean up," he said gently. "We have to get back."

Somehow wiping herself under his observation was even worse than peeing had been. On the march back, his hand, again, gently on her elbow, she was acutely aware of her unaddressed arousal. Somehow her body found his presence exciting!?

Taken into the room, she saw with a blushing shock that her Followship teacher, much younger than Mrs. Greenfield, was in there too. The women were talking, Ms. Emily, looking perky and animated. When she saw Kelvin leading her, Ms. Emily's smile blossomed but she also came forward and hugged Misty.

"Oh dear, in it already," she said with the sympathy of someone who thinks the person they have sympathy for thinks they have it far worse than the sympathizer does. Misty felt terribly awkward in the hug, but it was warm and, she thought, sincere, and despite herself, she found she liked it. Miss Emily put a protective arm around Misty's shoulder. She looked over at Kelvin.

"Don't go too far," she said to him, and he gave her a nod, lowering his head in agreement. He stepped back. Misty could see he was fully obedient, but he was sympathetic to her that his presence was going to make this even more embarrassing.

Misty, despite herself, felt glad he was there. Mrs. Greenfield was stern and severe. Ms. Emily was perky and smiley--but her class on submission had made it clear she felt that humiliation was an important part of every young woman's experience!

Mrs. Greenfield did manage to look a little pained at Ms. Emily's ebullient theatricality, as she beckoned Misty forward. "Front and center, Misty. Ms. Emily, if you would?"

Misty made herself come forward, blushing dreadfully and squirming and cringing under Mrs. Greenfield's gaze.

"Feet a bit apart," whispered Ms. Emily, walking her before the elder woman. "Hands on your head, and whatever you do, don't break position. You'll be further punished for squirming."

Misty gave a slight nod, her blush feeling like it could cook an egg on her face. Then, worse happened: Ms. Emily gently reached around and unhooked her skirt. Misty had been spanked bare in her counselor's office. She knew from her sisters that most discipline involved some degree--usually a substantial degree--of undress--but doing it here, before both women... and the boy--took her breath away and brought sobs bubbling up.

Ms. Emily drew the skirt down, squatting, and encouraging her to lift her feet one at a time for her to take it fully away.

Her panties already taken, she was horrifyingly naked. She stood, trembling, her buttocks facing the boy, an unbearable flush of shame so intense it felt like some physical substance flowing through her, congealing in her most private places--her sex, her buttocks, her breasts.. No! No! No! This couldn't be happening to her! How could these women do this to her!? Tears began, rolling down her face. Ms. Emily placed a warm hand on her buttocks,

"Easy, honey," she said comfortingly. "Being a FoxTail girl is going to involve a good amount of punishment. You'll get through it, I promise!" She moved back, letting her hand go to Misty's shoulder. Her buttocks, nude, were facing right at Kelvin. She shifted on her feet, gulping down the sobs that threatened to pour out of her.

Mrs. Greenfield winced, apparently finding her distress trying, or maybe overwrought.

"Misty," said the elder woman, "You were only slightly late, but while that does require a report to your dorm RAs, I am inclined to issue a punishment that can be handled without that."

Misty sniffled and nodded. The scary woman was trying to give her an easier punishment--and this tiny part of it was already unbearable! She nodded, though, not wanting to anger the stern professor.

"I contacted Ms. Emily as she is your other instructor on the campus to determine how you had behaved in her class. She had a similar assessment to my own. You are a quiet, generally well behaved girl, with a great deal of promise--but you, Ms. Colter, are hiding."

Her inflection on the last word was dire. Misty quailed.

"You were arrested and charged with possession. Being quiet in court would not change your sentence and as FoxTails has taken responsibility for you, being quiet and timid will not prevent you from being disciplined here."

"Ms. Emily feels that you are commonly internally bristling in her class concerning the proper methods of Followship. I tend to agree. It's not uncommon, but for a girl in the Watchtower dorms, I feel it is appropriate to address her concerns at this opportunity."

Misty was shuddering as she glanced, not understanding, at her young teacher. Ms. Emily gave Misty an encouraging smile and an energetic nod.

"I will give you a choice, Misty. You can dress--we will provide you with new panties as yours are unacceptable--and return to the Watchtower dorms with a report of mild tardiness. This will likely result in a spanking by your RAs and a temporary punishment posting for an hour or so. It will be unpleasant and quite embarrassing but the part of it that you might want to avoid is that once the girls--the dorm moms--have you at their mercy, they will likely find reasons to punish you further until they are satisfied. With a hider, like you, that could be quite a bit."

"The other alternative is to practice some of your budding Followship. Prefect Kelvin Lake is, in Ms. Emily's opinion, an excellent guide for your first steps into willing submission. He is a member of our Intramural Spanking Team who has extremely high marks in the application of punishment, from the intense to the extremely mild."

Misty glanced in the direction of Kelvin, but he was behind her and she didn't break position enough to turn and see him. This suggested punishment will be to spend the rest of the day and night under his care. You will remain on this campus. I will notify your Dorm-Mothers, so there is no concern raised."

"During your time with him you are to practice Followship--subjugation, submission, obedience, and a positive, enthusiastic attitude to having him discipline you for being late to class."

Ms. Emily piped up. "If you choose this, you'll have to work with him to take your punishment. He will see to you, of course--but you'll be working WITH him to make sure you learn your lesson!"

Misty swallowed. She licked her lips--neither option sounded bearable--but in the ensuing silence, she felt the warmth of humiliating arousal fluttering under her belly button. She swallowed again, and now she did turn to look at Kelvin. He was carefully not staring at her bare ass--and he looked sympathetic but not exactly awkward. He understood full well what was happening here, even if she didn't.

He met her eyes and gave her a slight nod that she couldn't quite interpret, but, again, his calm sympathetic manner made her feel better.

"I'll take the--the--Followship," she said softly.

Ms. Emily clasped her hands, delighted and proud of her.

Mrs. Greenfield nodded, sounding more reservedly approving--but still warm. "Kelvin," she said crisply, "You have Ms. Misty Colter for the day. She is under punishment. I want her hand-spanked, given bottoms of some sort, and then she is to accompany you on your duties. As Ms. Emily said, she is to collaborate in her own subjugation and punishment."

He gave her a small bow and gave Misty a look--he nodded his head, pointing his chin at the door. "Come on--we have some things for you to wear upstairs. There won't be people out in the halls right now--well, not too many."

She was still blushing terribly and shaking, covering herself despite knowing it was frowned upon--but he took her to the door. She threw a desperate look back at Ms. Emily who smiled brightly and waved as though she was heading off to have a good time.

They moved out into the hall. Now Kelvin looked over his shoulder at the closed door. He took her elbow, moving her quickly in the direction of the stairwell. Her naked flesh felt hot and vulnerable, but despite that, she didn't dislike his touch.

"This isn't going to be pleasant," he said, reluctantly--"but I'm going to take it seriously, and you should too."

"I'm sorry I was late," she said, sniffling.

"It isn't really about being late. The Watchtower dorms are pretty... the girls in charge are picked for their facility with misery. Ms. Greenfield did do you a favor of not handing you over to them. It'll probably happen at some point--but at least not early on where they'd delight in making an example of you."

She shuddered. He marched her up the stairs and onto the top floor of the hall. There was a faint, horrible sensation of her naked buttocks quivering with each step and the sense of openness, of visibility of her sex, that made her want to scream and cover herself. Somehow Kelvin's presence blunted that? As if being led by him made her humiliation acceptable?

Or, maybe just, 'expected.'

That changed when a woman she didn't know entered the hall, and the razor-sharp cut of her nakedness lashed her pride, causing her to turn and press against him as a woman walked past, her eyes falling on Misty's nakedness, but the young woman didn't stop. He tightened his arm around her shoulder. "Mostly staff and juniors and seniors up here," he said. "They'll have seen worse than you."

Misty's mind galloped, wondering what that could be. He stopped at the door. "This is a training room for the FoxTails intramural disciplinary team. There may be other people in here--spankers or spankees or both. Mrs. Greenfield wants you spanked, and I'm going to administer it here. It'll be very humiliating and a bit painful. It'll be over quickly, and we'll get you dressed. If there aren't any -ers in there, no worries. If there are, though, and you carry on or beg or are too vocal, it'll draw their attention and I will allow them to have their way with you--you don't want that."

All sorts of questions danced on her lips, but he opened the door. The sound of reports of hands or implements on flesh and gasping muffled cries greeted her. She grabbed Kelvin, hard, staring.

Two girls, pretty and elegant, conversed over the bared bottom of a nude underclassgirl bound over a wooden trestle. They had a color sheet showing different shades of red and pink and one girl was evaluating the other's work holding the paper against the punished skin. The bent over girl was waxed or otherwise shorn of hair below the neck. Misty could see her look of sullen misery in a mirror set to display her face.

To her shock, at another station, a nude boy was strung out on an A-frame, his wrists bound above his head, his legs spread just a bit wider than might be comfortable.

He looked wretched, lean and trussed, another mirror displayed his thick erection as a laughing girl with a cruel smile stood behind him. She was having a merry time, letting her fingernails hover over his taut, stretched ribs and the helpless, exposed hollows of his underarms. She had him writhing in panic without even touching--but when she did, her nails suddenly digging in and flickering madly, to and fro, he convulsed and shrieked in gales of horrible, forced laughter!

The awful torturess clearly found his terror and sensitivity delicious and would focus on this spot or that until he was wildly panting and moaning, having laughed himself into gasping desperation.

Only then would she give him a break--and only then to let his mind terrorize him further as he contemplated the next attack!

Standing next to the tickler was a boy, dressed sharply, and holding a whip with several tails of rubber hoses. The naked boy's buttocks and thighs blazed with red stripes where the whip had fallen.

The slinky, grinning girl was clearly taking great pleasure in threatening to tickle one area, then moving to another as the boy struggled, his erection bouncing ludicrously. When he begged enough, the other boy, with the whip, drew his arm back and lashed him across the buttocks. He yelped, and sobbing, fearing more tickling, begged for another.

This delightful game seemed extremely entertaining to both of them, with no end in sight for the poor young man!

Kelvin nodded to the girls--and boys, as he led a pale, quivering Misty across the room. Towards the front of the room was a raised chair with a girl sitting atop it. Her skirts were spread so that her bottom rested directly against the seat, or rather, sat in a toilet seat like basin over the face of a dark-skinned girl who was nude, on her back, legs spread wide.

The girl sitting on the seat, seemed to be enjoying herself, adjusting her hips to get attention exactly where she wanted it. Periodically, she smacked the laying girl's vulva with a horse crop. From the faint movements of the reclining girl's upper body, it was clear the naked girl on the bottom was enthusiastically licking her mistress's pussy.

"Kelvin!" The voice from ahead startled Misty, who was staring. "Always glad to have you! Who is this cutie?"

It was one of the in-charge girls, dressed, hair and blouse and skirt immaculate, grinning a feline grin as she looked over Misty like she was going to be a delicious lunch! Her legs clamped fiercely together. She was desperate to cover herself, but she kept her hands on Kelvin's sweater vest, her face mostly pressed into the fabric.

"Misty," Kelvin said, his voice friendly but clipped. "Special assignment. I've got her all day."

"Oooh. Lucky her! Well, unlucky her--but you know what I mean!"

"I do, Alexi. Let me see to her."

"Of course," said the girl indulgently. She was clearly taken with Kelvin. "I'm just surprised to see you marching a freshgirl around bare-bottom! You're becoming cruel in your position!" She made the word 'cruel' sound delectable.

"I didn't bare her," said Kelvin. "I'm going to get her covered up after we take care of something."

"Ooh. Take care of her bottom?"

"She's been assigned a spanking as a start to the day," he said. A note of annoyance crept into his voice and the girl backed off.

"If you need a baby-sitter," said Alexi, still managing an amused purr, "I'll look after her for you!"

Kelvin moved her past coming around the front of the classroom where there was some scant privacy behind a long black-topped table, Behind it was a low cabinet filled with a frightening array of implements which Misty only recognized some of. Paddles, small whips, leather and rubber straps, and more exotic looking things like a glass bottle full of sticky burrs with numerous small spikes! There were tins of some kind of ointment, tubes of pastes. Kelvin took a small chair that was sat amid a large black rubber mat.

He guided her around.

"Lay over my lap. I'm going to position you 'properly' for this. Try to pay attention--you'll be required to assume the position often. Okay?"

Misty murmured assent. She lay over his lap. The self-consciousness was dreadful. She felt gross and clumsy and anything but desirable. The view she was giving him was devoid of any dignity--it was about to get worse.

"Good--spread your legs Misty--wider--more. More. Okay."

She felt like her entire region was hideously on display. Thankfully no one was looking, but with her legs spread, she knew her sex was hugely visible. She gulped. It was a mortifyingly vulnerable position, but he wasn't finished.

"Arch your back to push your bottom out. That's the 'target zone,' understood?"

His hand rested lightly on her buttocks. Swimming in embarrassment, tears on her cheeks, his touch, although a violation of her that shot shards of humiliation through her, was actually welcome--it felt warm and... even protective.

She arched her back pushing her buttocks into his hand.

"Good," he said. His praise felt like a gust of delightfully warm air. "Last bit. I want you to roll your hips a little to make your rear even more prominent. Can you do that for me, Misty?"

His voice was even and kind. She shuddered and obeyed. It felt obscene. It felt utterly shameful. She was agonizingly aware that her sex was lubricated. She was sure her labia were swollen and open. The idea that someone standing behind her would see that, perfectly framed by her vulgarly spread thighs, her hips raised and rolled, inviting sex--penetration--would have been intolerable--she was certain she couldn't do it--but under the feel of his hand, and in semi-private, and hearing the sound of renewed smacks and soft cries, she did it.

"Good girl," he said, again. His praise sounded sincere and warm. "You're 19? I'm going to give you your age in spanks. It's punishment--both for being tardy to class, but also for what got you put into the Watchtower dorms. It's not the full punishment. You've still got a ways to go--but it's a start. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured.

"The spanks will sting and hurt," he said. "They will leave your region a bit reddened, and for a time after, it will be uncomfortable to sit. I expect there will be tears and, given your lack of experience with spanking, there may be squirming. I expect you to stay in position, taking your punishment. If you struggle too much, we'll start over. If you break and try to cover up, we'll move to one of the trestles and handle it there with restraints."

He stroked her buttocks. "None of that's necessary, Misty. For now, all you need to do is bear it out and cry. You're a big girl. You can do this!"

His words--the combination of condemnation and kindness penetrated the walls of her emotional dam tears flowed harder.

"Yes, sir," she said, her void wet and choked with tears.

His hand patted. "I'll count. Keep your bottom in position, grip the chair legs, and with each spank, I want you to focus on how your actions brought you to this juncture. When we're done, you'll tell me how you got into this predicament--why you deserved the spanking, okay? I want you to try to be thoughtful, Misty. You can do this."

Sobbing, she nodded. "Yes, sir," she repeated.

"Good girl." He rubbed her buttocks. "Starting now."

Whap! She took it. She'd been paddled earlier that morning--and compared to the sharp, blazing kiss of the paddle, the hand slap was far more bearable. It stung, but it wasn't the raging forest fire in her bottom that Mrs. Litmer's horrid paddle stoked.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. "We got ourselves into this situation by being tardy, didn't we?"

Whap. Whap. Whap. She mouthed an "Ow" but she hung on. The worst was keeping her position. The horrible spread and explicit pose added shame to each spank. Tears stung her eyes.

Pow! Pow! Splat! Smack! Whap! He alternated cheeks. "Misty has worked so desperately to avoid punishment she's wound up getting more discipline, hasn't she?" He asked--not unkindly. She let out a moan--the spanks, falling on the tender sit spot now raised the heat level to where she began to struggle to hold position. She was too open--too revealing--too tender!

Pow! Pow! WHAP! Her already paddled region now cried out--the spanks felt sharper, her skin lightly sunburned. A yelp escaped her lips. Her legs slid and moved in protest as her hands gripped the chair legs with white-knuckled force.

Pow!. Whap! She picked her feet up gasping and put them back down--Oh--it hurt, but the pain was secondary to the humiliation of keeping her legs opened She was sobbing.

"You're doing great," said Kelvin. "Almost done." Her moan was soft--but deep and... humiliatingly husky. Being spanked by a young man--a peer was doing something dreadful to her!

WHAP! The spank fell on the center across the lower bulge of her rear cleft. The pain from the expert, sharp spank pushed a cry from her lips. Her feet both picked up, kicking in protest. Breath caught on the lump of tears in her throat.

"All done," he said. She sagged. She knew what came next, she'd had enough experience with Mrs. Litmer, corner time. "Go to the area in the yellow circle," he said, taking her arm and standing her. She was shaky. She wanted dearly to clutch her own bottom and rub--but that wasn't allowed.

He gestured to a set of yellow circles about 2 feet in diameter. The one he indicated was next to one of the lay-over trestles with the black girl bound in it, the padded bar under her hips and raised high. The girl's ankles were cuffed more than a yard apart. Her body bent down, hair falling around her face. Her wrists were stretched out and cuffed to a lower bar.

Misty could see the slim, pink cleft of her sex pitilessly displayed. Her buttocks, the color of coffee, bore marks of punishment, now healing. Her naked body seemed relaxed over the bar, but one of the dressed girls was approaching with a rubber bladder and an enema tube. She had a bottle of lubrication and fastened the top of the bladder to a pole extended from the trestle, apparently for that purpose.

The trussed girl, inverted, gave a soft little cry of protest when she saw the enema kit.

"My Little really hates her irrigation," the girl said as Misty, sniffling, moved onto the circle, facing the wall. "She's had a lot of lessons to learn and she's still nicely learning them."

She heard the girl give a moaning, sobbing cry.

"Oh, this lubrication stings a little, sweetie," the girl cooed. "But joining the Spanking Team is going to sting a lot more! Trust me!"

Misty's sex clenched.

"Okay, we'll start the flow--it's a special oil-mix with a strong smell designed to smell like mistress's cunt--whose juice is all over your face!"

Misty heard a slap--a spank to the girl's tube-split buttocks.

The trussed girl made a soft sound--teary and submissive.

The dressed girl stepped close behind Misty, her hand caressing Misty's buttocks. "My girl is going to be uncomfortably full for a while, and then she's going to have the experience of emptying out, squatting in the grass, on a leash."

Her hand lightly rubbed over Misty's bottom. The sensation sent unwanted electric shivers through her body. Her region bare, her hands on her head, her feet shoulder-length apart, she squirmed under the touch. Her heart raced, her face burned. The girl's voice was close, her lips less than an inch away. She could feel the fabric of the girl's blouse against her. Her breath hot on her ear.

Misty whimpered.

"I make her do it in a place that feels public, but is really quite private," the girl whispered. "But if you want to watch her obedience and humiliation, let me know."

Her hand moved down, lower, her fingertips moving to the slick moisture down both her thighs. Misty cried out, feeling the girl stroke her mortifying lubrication. The dressed girl laughed.

"Part of you is definitely enjoying it." She bent in and kissed Misty lightly on the neck. She stiffened, squirmed, and her lips parted. "You're cute, honey," she said, approvingly. Her fingers moved up and then stroked lightly over the intimate folds and bulges of her sex. The girl inspected there, intimately close, fingers gliding, probing.

From the trestle, Misty heard groans and moans of discomfort, and the sound made her quiver. The fluid in the enema must be creating a desperate feeling of urgency. It sounded utterly unbearable! The girl's finger, curving deep, found her erect clitoris, and the touch made Misty jump and almost slam her thighs closed.

"Mmm--we don't like that?" The girl gave a soft giggle. "But we held our position, didn't we? Good girl."

Misty sobbed.

The girl's fingers, slick with Misty's moisture, drew back and up along the curve of her anal cleft. Misty's shoulders shook with soft sobs.

"Okay, Carly," came Kelvin's voice. "That's enough."

"Aww--but your girl is so adorable. You should've given her a much sterner spanking! We'd get to see her dance and sing!"

Kelvin moved in. "See to your Little, Carly." we can talk later."

Misty whimpered and his hand fell on her shoulder. "We're good with corner time," said Kelvin. "Come with me."

She turned, grateful to be released from the punishment and, leaning against him, she was led past the trestles to a large dresser at the far end of the room.

Looking over her shoulder, the boy who'd been tickled and whipped was now bent over a different style of trestle, still naked, the other boy, tall and handsome stood behind him, his pelvis touching the whipped buttocks. He still wore his trousers, but they seemed to flare out where his cock would exit.

She watched the boy who'd held the whip gently thrust his hips--the naked boy bent over was being taken in his anus--carefully, it seemed, but she could see his eyes clenched closed, face blazing, body quivering.

The girl who'd been tickling squatted down by his head, talking to him softly and stroking his hair.

"I'm going to put this on you," Kelvin said, taking a folded pair of pants from the dresser. "It'll feel a little weird but it'll cover you just fine. Place your palms on the wall, bent forward, legs back, feet spread."

Misty did--it was like a police pat down position.

The clothing was a set of trousers. They were red and orange in the school's color and they were oddly made. Each leg had a zipper down the side and the saddle area from the crotch point to the back yoke, to the waistband were all thickly padded velcro fitted folds that he wrapped around her and stuck together. It fastened first around her hips, then a gusset folded through her legs and stuck to the back of the waist band. Finally he zipped down each leg, closing over the legs of the pants.

She felt it looked ridiculous but it covered everything and the thick fabric around her area was soft and, thankfully absorbent. She stood, blinking. Kelvin took a tissue and wiped her eyes and nose. She had another surreal feeling of helplessness as he cleaned her while she simply stared ahead.

"Let's go," he said, leading her out of the room.

# # #

"What was that?" she asked, in a hushed voice. They stood by a food-truck around the rear of the campus. It smelled deliciously of spicy tacos and, despite the pants, the walk and the sunshine had done her good. She still smarted and the whirlpool of humiliation was still swirling in her--but what she had seen in the room was a blazing knot of questions in her gut.

"That's the Spanking Team practice room," Kelvin said, after swallowing a bite of taco. "The Intramural Discipline team. The girls in charge are the '-ers.' The Spankers. The girls, and boys getting it are the '-ees,' the Spankees.

He glanced at her. "It's a pretty unpleasant disciplinary sentence to be assigned on the team as a Spankee. It tends to get good results, but it's a very uncomfortable time!"

"You're... you're on the team?"

"As an '-er.,'" he agreed. "Foxtrot has a Spanking Team as well--but some of us are seconded to the FoxTails team. Having boys participate in the girl's punishment and vice-versa makes the experience more... educational."

He glanced at her.

She was blushing badly. "So all the people... getting it... were assigned to the team?"

He laughed. "No. Those are Spanking Team applicants. If a girl or boy wants to be an '-er,' they have to apply, get accepted, and spend the first year going to all the meets as a Spankee. It's hard--but, again, almost everyone who goes through it thinks it was worth it!"

"You went through it?" She asked. The idea seemed surreal and thrilling! She found her imagination suddenly flooded with images of Kelvin naked, tied helplessly, humiliatingly erect as cruel boys and girls toyed with him! Surely that was impossible, wasn't it? And yet he said it had happened!

"Three years ago. It was... harrowing? It shook me up--but, now I'm very glad I did it."

Misty was blushing badly--but she had to keep going. Her curiosity was inflamed.

"A Meet is where you go and spank girls?"

"Or boys," he said. "Generally being assigned to the team as an '-ee' is usually just one. That's bad enough, and it works. The applicants have to go through 4-6 and they get training in taking and later giving spankings and similar discipline."

Misty shuddered.

"It looked awful," she says. He put his hand on her back between her shoulder blades. It felt... comforting... there.

"It's a crash education in being submissive to your dominants. It's definitely not easy--but those applicant girls will be good, intimate friends with their Bigs by the time the year is over. It certainly isn't all bad--but you learn to deal with humiliation and subjugation--not to mention a whole lot of punishment and sexual training."

"The boy--I saw him being--" She was thinking of the other boy's cock gently penetrating the tied boy's helpless anus. Words for it refused to come from her mouth.

"Taken, yeah. That happens. For most of us, it's uncomfortable and exceptionally humiliating. A very effective form of domination and punishment, especially when done in front of the girls. A way of being 'put in your place.' Of course some people find that Path resonates with them. you'll likely be the submissive in a proper relationship. Almost everyone does keep with it--it sounds absolutely horrible, but you discover the hidden benefits once you are further along."

She walked a bit--the burn in her rear had dimmed to the coals of the fire he'd stoked. The thick padding of the pants touched at her thighs when she walked. "I've got more punishment from you to go, don't I?

He laughed, and nodded. "I'm afraid so, Misty. And you're to be properly and extremely submissive."

"Extremely submissive," she repeated. He nodded, and laughed.

"On FoxTails campus, being paraded around as a slave-girl would be mortifying. Here, less so, I hope."

"Like a slave girl?" She looked up at him,

"A good way to think about it, don't you think?

"A... sex slave?" she asked.

"Submission is inherently sexual," he told her. "I don't think I have to remind you of that." He was referring to how lubricated she'd been this whole time, and she felt her familiar and constant blush deepen. They stood, finishing their tacos.

"Would--would you... Take... me?" she asked, her voice nervous.

"That would be a bit advanced," he said.

"I've... had sex," she said. Oh--mercy, what was she DOING!?

"Subjugation sex isn't... at all.. focused on your pleasure. The boy back there was being Taken as punishment. He almost certainly ejaculated from it, but I can guarantee he didn't enjoy it."

"I'm not supposed to enjoy any of this," she said, thoughtfully.

"You've cried a few times today," he said, using his thumb to wipe a stray piece of lettuce from her chin. "You'll have more to cry about--but I want to make this more... embarrassing than painful."

She nodded, slowly,

"So," he said, "You're my newly acquired slave girl--my job is to break you in to get you used to being under my dominance."

Ohh--she squirmed, and nodded.

"How should I start?" He asked her. He grinned. "Give me some ideas."

Her eyes flashed--oh--ohhh-fuck. Give HIM some ideas? She cast about in the silence as he casually watched her.

"I... should... call you master?" She asked. A small smile threatened to break through on her face. This was awkward, but kind of fun.

"Good!" he was pleased. "And if you fail to, a spanking? A light one--but very embarrassing."

She nodded. Then: "Yes, master." She smiled shyly--an uncomfortable, blushing smile but maybe also a slightly pleased one?

He smiled. "Good--go on."

She--oh--she needed more? Ugh. And yet her imagination had ready answers!"I would, uh, refer to myself in the third person. This slave wouldn't use her own name?"

Now he laughed. "That's excellent, Misty-slave! Did you learn that in your Followship class?"

She shook her head, face red, but eyes bright and shining. "I... read--this slave read it in a story."

"Good! This slave just avoided a little spanking." He grinned. "Keep going."

"Obviously this slave has to do anything master says," she said, now her mind racing. "Can Master dress this slave like... like Princess Leia in that movie?

He nodded, clearly impressed. "Something like that," he agreed. "Does Misty-Slave think she could walk around campus dressed like that?"

"This--this slave doesn't know," Misty said, suddenly worried she was asking for things she couldn't take.

He nodded. "We'll think on it. Give master some other ideas."

Ugh. She looked across the campus quad and up at the buildings. "Master could hand over this slave to... Mistress Alexi for an hour or so?" She looked at him. He snorted in surprise.

"Misty-slave is adventurous!"

She blushed terribly, looking down, suddenly stabbed with shame. He lifted her chin. "It is a VERY good idea, Misty-slave--Master just thinks you do not know what you are asking for." He smiled. "But your ideas are excellent--your professors will be impressed. I am impressed."

Ohh--ohh--oh, ugh--oh... She stared up into his eyes, blinking. She was frozen, unable to move--petrified. The praise GOT to her--THERE. She was suddenly glad for the absorbent padding in the pants.

"You have done a good job, Misty-slave," he said. "Now, the hard part will be to remain positive as we work through your discipline." He did smile. "I'll be with you though--you'll make it."

She swallowed, and nodded.

# # # Slave Dress

"What do we have here?" Mrs. Tealings ran the costume department for the Halcyon School Theater.

"Part of Misty-slaves disciplinary program," Kelvin said, with a very slight smile, "is being walked in public in an 'appropriate' outfit. I thought you could help us."

Misty would have been deeply regretting her suggestion if there was any way it could actually happen--which it couldn't! Impossible. The theater backstage was filled with props that looked more than a little authentic--pillories, whipping posts. A 'torture chair' covered with nasty little pyramids! Ugh!

The costume room was filled with all kinds of princess dresses and elegant ballroom attire--but there were far more revealing outfits too. Hundreds of them. She felt the woman study her. "Her idea?" Tealings guessed.

"It was," Kelvin said, surprised. "I thought it was a good one."

The woman laughed at his naivete and stepped over, stroking Misty's hair fondly. "All those eyes on you, Misty-slave? And nowhere to hide or cover up?" She was quite amused. "Suggested in a moment of heat, no doubt. Well, you did ask for it, dear." She nodded and returned her attention to Kelvin. "Leather bikini and chains?"

"She mentioned Princess Leia," he said and Misty felt her cheeks flare hot as Tealings cackled in glee!

"We can make that work," the woman assured. She clapped her hands sharply. "Okay, Misty-slave, everything off. Let's see what we're dealing with."

Somehow, undressing here was even worse than it had been before. Misty felt horrified and infuriated by the costume director's smirking amusement and utterly ashamed at the woman's guess that she found the idea of being looked at horrifying and also, somehow... arousing.

The Horrid Mrs. Tealings spared her nothing! "Up here--" a wooden block only a few inches high that made her feel like she was on some horrid, exposed stage! "Legs apart--move, girl--hands up out of the way. On your head!" Misty scrambled to get in position and the woman still gave her a sharp, infuriating spank! OH! Just because!

I hate her! Misty thought.

But then Mrs. Tealing simply reached between her legs and gently, carefully, but with absolutely no care for her privacy or personal dignity, slipped her fingers between the opened lips of Misty's vagina.

Misty let out a soft, mortified shriek, and the fingers lingered there.

"She's been under punishment all day," Kelvin explained quickly. "Maintenance this morning and now this for being late. I took her by the Training Room--it's been very... overstimulating."

"I'm sure it has!" Mrs. Tealings laughed and carefully slid a finger up into the channel, searching out the full degree of the lubrication. "And I'm sure she's not been masturbating nearly as much as she's used to--" oh, the bitch was enjoying this! And she wiggled her finger in a way that made Misty gasp despite desperately wanting not to! Oh!! In front of him!

"We're a very modest girl, aren't we Misty-slave," the woman mocked gently as her finger moved, "But sometimes we make 'Imaginary Misty' display herself in front of others--and she hates it! Just like 'Real Misty' does..." Mrs. Tealings was smiling more warmly now, "But it gets our female opening wet, doesn't it--what an adventure this is going to be!"

Misty let out a gasping moan--Tealings words were bad enough, but the way she moved her intruding digit and the ideas she suggested were enough to make the orgasm Misty had been craving for days and days stir inside her and begin to insist! Oh, that couldn't happen! Not here! Not like this!

It had though. And just as it did, Mrs. Tealings slipped her finger out and carefully cleaned her hands with a handkerchief. "Return of the Jedi, hmm? We can work with that. Let's see what we can do..."

# # # Dressed and Ready

"No! Master! Please!" Misty stood at the edge of the dressing area, pulling back slightly on the leash that Kelvin held, which ran to her collar.

"Misty-slave will heel," Kalvin said, evenly, "and receive a public spanking for her recalcitrance. Pull any harder and the clasp will snap--it's made to break away"

Her face BURNED.

The outfit was, indeed, a little bit like the Princess Leia's metallic bikini. The panties were a metal thong whose smooth curve ran through her labia and between her cheeks. Her breasts were encased in an uncomfortable metallic bra, and her feet were locked into high platform heels that, while they weren't terribly uncomfortable, had a metallic looking exterior, were quite a bit higher than anything she'd ever worn, and didn't come off without a key.

She wore the collar, at each wrist and ankle, a leather cuff with D-rings for locking. The worst part was the plug in her anus which exited through a small loop in the rear metal curve with a pony-tail that came down to her knees. The hair of the tail was brilliantly colored and soft. Walking was uncomfortable--just standing was uncomfortable.

On her bare, visibly spanked buttocks, the word BRAT was written in bold letters, two on each cheek. She'd had to hold still while he marked it and she'd shuddered. The final insult was a light on the front of the locking chastity-belt that illuminated when her sex was lubricated. Sensors in the loop apparently sampled the moisture and would brighten the light.

She pranced, feeling beyond exposed in the high heels. Kelvin gave her a look.

"We are going across the quad to the Atrium. There Misty-slave is going to do some tricks for master. Then, Master will take a little break and leave Misty slave with Alexi for a bit. Then Misty-slave and master will return to Master's apartment and get ready for the end of Misty-slave's punishment time.

Misty nodded, red-faced. The... day? Didn't sound that awful--not with Kelvin, but being paraded around with the word BRAT on her buttocks and the horse-tail protruding from her anus was unbearable. Still, he gave the leash a faint tug and she started moving. At least this time, it covered her sex, if not very well.

She got looks as they crossed the Halcyon Campus--she saw two girls, probably other first years, gawk at her. She was burning up with humiliation, but Kelvin just led her calmly through the quad. Oh--oh, this was awful--but the signal light on the front of the stupid "chastity belt" kept blinking brightly. She had to waddle with the plug in her and the hair seemed to create or instigate a fearsome itch in a particularly bad place!

Kelvin, a bit ahead, let the leash hang between them. He moved slowly so she could keep up, but still with a confident ease that somehow made her feel slightly better about 'getting walked.' When she distractedly reached back to scratch her inner thigh where the tail's hair had swept against it, he adeptly caught her wrist, and gave her a hard sharp spank on her buttock.

"Ow! Sorry!" she gasped.

"Sorry, master," he corrected her calmly, but gave her another spank.

"OW! SORRY, MASTER!" she yelped. An upperclassgirl walking by, looked over and smirked at her.

"Misty-slave needs to learn a mindfulness lesson about not scratching our itches," he said. He looped an arm around her waist, standing against her, facing her, looking down Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Sudden hard spanks, alternating buttocks. She yowled, and tears broke. "We'll give her a chance to learn it," he said quietly to her.

She shuddered, looking up at him.

"Is," she sniffled, "Is master mad at his slave?" She searched his eyes, but found only calm.

"Misty-slave," he said softly, "is in public with master now. She is under punishment, and so it's going to be quite hard on her--as is deserved. The way that Misty-Slave can impress master is to make all of her interactions with master as terribly humiliating as possible. She will need to be inventive as to how to follow all directions and increase the humiliation, but it is a test of Misty-slave's followship."

Misty shuddered, face burning, quaking, and, yes, itching. She blinked back tears.

"Misty-slave... isn't sure how, master. Misty slave just started her class." She felt a large lump in her throat and swallowed painfully.

"Misty-slave can think on it," he said. His voice was not unkind, but neither was it as welcoming as it had been. It was, she thought wretchedly, his 'master' voice. She shuddered. He started to turn and she gulped.

"Master! Misty-slave is... wet, master. Very wet. Misty-slave is... uncomfortably wet," she finished, sounding a bit lame. "Misty-slave will think of another word."

He laughed. "Well done, slave! A girl who wets like that under punishment should be punished a great deal, shouldn't she?"

"Yes, master. Misty-slave should be punished a great deal."

"Soundly?" He asked, leading her towards the door. "In excess of what her teacher required?"

Oh, mercy--would he? Could she take it? She was fairly sure she couldn't.

"Much more, master, and worse. Does... master enjoy punishing Misty-slave?"

He turned to look at her. His raised eyebrow suggested 'much more' and 'worse' might not have been the wisest of answers. Then, "Misty-slave is quite enjoyable to punish and master is expected to enjoy it."

He pushed through glass doors into the 'atrium'--a long wide corridor with numerous plants, trees, and benches in a green swath down the center with walking paths through them. Around the rectangle of plants were classrooms, stretching up three stories to a glass ceiling. He led her along one of the side paths and she could see there were quite a few students out there, relaxing, standing in small groups, talking.

She could feel their gaze on her--girls and boys--as she clomped along, face broiling with blush. Kelvin seemed unperturbed by the looks--in some cases stares, but Misty felt rising panic. She wasn't exactly naked--but she was close to it--and in many ways the gaudy get-up was even worse!

"Here we are, Misty-slave," Kelvin said, indicating a circular area at the edge of the green trip. There were three branches around it. There were groups of students nearby, all watching. He stepped in close, holding the leash so that her face tilted up to his.

"Most of these students will be quite familiar with various punishments," he said, "But you're going to get attention and it's going to be very difficult for you. I want you to keep a positive cheerful attitude towards your humiliation. It doesn't mean Misty-slave can't cry--but it does mean she adores her master for properly punishing her, just as he adores his slave. You may not think you can do this--but you can, and I expect you to perform well. Understood?"

"Yes, master," she breathed, her voice quivering.

"Good, We're going to have a light spanking for the scratching--and then we'll do some tricks. Master will explain everything."

He turned and led her to the bench.

"Since Misty-slave's tail is sticking out of her bottom," he explained, "master doesn't want to slap it--so the spanking will be a little different, but quite unpleasant!"

He paused--a moment of silence stretched.

She stared at him, afraid to look away else she see others watching this--then, the silence was awkward. What was she--oh!

"Yes master!" she managed. Her voice was a squeak. "Very unpleasant. P-perfect."

The corner of his mouth crooked up a millimeter.

"Hold master's shoulder and put your left foot up on the bench," he instructed her. She reached out, held him and placed her foot up--if she hadn't been holding him, on the high heels and their platforms, she might have fallen over.

"Good, keep holding on and turn your knee out.."

She... did. Her blush deepened. The position opened space between her thighs and exposed her swollen, still horribly aroused sex.

"Good girl," he said. "Master is going to do five sets with a break between each one. Misty-slave will see. She is to hang on to master through the chastisement."

He stood in front of her--she didn't know what he intended, but she griped him tightly. He cupped his hand--and then lowered it, directly under her--no!

His hand cupped her sex. The thin smooth chastity bar ran between her labia. It was slightly smaller in diameter than a pencil and offered no protection to the swollen organ. Then, he 'clapped.' The strokes--the spanks were rapid-fire with an awful wet sound, one after the other, after the other. His cupped hand in her most intimate zone was an utter violation--and the spanks--while not exactly hard, were smarting and painful and her sex quivered with the barrage.

For moments, she gasped--but the pain and the humiliation drove her like a horse being lashed and she yelped and cried out, gasping in the grip of the pain.

"Thank me," he said softly, "after each set." His and still held there, against her sensitive skin, the heat from the smacking radiating up from her--the wretched feeling of arousal mixed with the burning flesh and incandescent humiliation.

"T-thank you, master," she whispered, her voice etched with tears. Then, in spasm of embarrassment, she raised her voice. "Thank you for punishing me, master."

Her words were wet and creaky--strained and broken with tears--but she got it out.

"Good girl," he said, sounding... truly impressed. "Our next set. Ready yourself, Misty-slave."

"Yes, master," she whimpered, gripping his vest and shirt tightly.

Smack-Smack-Smack-Smack-Smack--again another upwards rain of slaps, each a violation--an insult--a painful spasm. Her sex cried out and tears ran down her face. It was all she could do to hang on and not bawl. Just when the pain of the same awful cupped hand smacking over and over in the same space almost broke her, he stopped.

She let out a little moan that was humiliatingly sexual standing. She sobbed twice before recovering enough to force out a "T-thank you, master. M-misty slave deserves her punishment."

She wasn't sure if it was loud enough for anyone but him to hear, and she was gulping air as she did it, but he seemed pleased--maybe even more than pleased.

"Misty-slave is displaying exemplary Followship," he said, and something in her glowed with pleasure.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kelvin, may we take some pictures for the Disciplinary Year Book?"

She turned, her face a muddy mess of tears and snot--blazing cheeks and red eyes. It was a girl--an upperclassgirl--and a boy. The boy held a camera. The girl held a leash that ran from her hand to--to his fly, going into his pants.

The boy did look embarrassed--he was being led around on a leash that was attached to, well, conservatively, his scrotum--but he was staring at Kelvin with a kind of respect one might have for a football hero.

Kelvin didn't remove his hand from her vulva but turned to the girl. "Take two close up and one distant picture. No facial focus. She is a freshgirl and I don't want her face in the pages."

"Yes sir!" the girl's countenance was professional and crisp. Misty didn't want any part of her appearing in a yearbook--but she knew better than to protest.

The girl gave the leash a little tug and the boy hustled quickly, going down in a squat that was unnecessarily embarrassing and pointing the large digital camera at Misty's lower quarters.

"Take it from behind," the girl said. "I want her bottom in frame--fully." To Kelvin, "Is this for the team, sir?"

Kelvin fixed her with a look. "No--and no more questions."

His tone suggested an 'or-else' at the end, and the girl nodded and absolutely scurried.

The next two sets had a crowd gathered. Misty was sore, her vulva now aching and, she was certain ruddy and swollen from the spanks. He had wiped her nose and eyes with a handkerchief he carried. And she was grateful for it. She must look a sight--but close to him, facing him instead of the crowd, she could barely manage it. He seemed to know that.

At the end of the fifth set, she was certain she would not walk normally, nor sit comfortably for the rest of the day. She sobbed softly.

"You will turn and thank the group for witnessing your punishment," he said to her, wiping a tear with his thumb. "You don't have to look them in the eyes, just turn and speak the words. Do it now before you think too much about it. Now, slave."

The last was still kind, but had a sharper tone that made her turn and, through blurry vision, speak.

"T-thank you for watching m-my--this slave's punishment--"

She trailed off--there was... thirty people there--and several appeared to be teachers--all watching her. No, that wasn't right--they were watching HIM.

He turned and walked, bringing the leash and she hurried, now waddling badly, to keep up. He was moving slowly but unhurriedly, and the crowd--they got out of his way. Waiting in the space that parted was the girl from the lounge, Alexi.

She had the same slinky, insolent, predatory look that the Watchtower Dorm-Moms did. But as Kelvin drew close, she glanced at his face, gave a faint nod, and held out a hand for the leash. "I have a room all to ourselves," she said.

"Good." He handed over the leash.

"Master needs to take care of some things, Misty-Slave. You will be fine with Mistress Alexi. Obey her as you would me."

He leaned in and lightly kissed her temple. She felt her face heat like a furnace as Alexi led her, still sobbing away.

# # #

The "lounge" was a classroom with several foam blocks and pillows, a large square of shag carpeting, and some thick blankets and sheets.

Alexi got the shoes off of Misty with a small key. She locked the wrist cuffs together in front of her, and helped her down. Misty's sex smarted and she moaned, less from pain and more from the crashing waves of humiliation within her as she lay, leaving against one of the foam blocks.

Alexi opened a water squeeze bottle and held it to her lips. "Drink. There's a toilet around back there, when you need it."

Misty drank.

"What got you assigned to the exalted 'lord' Kelvin?" she asked when Misty was done. Alexi wiped her chin.

"I was late to class," Misty said.

Alexi blinked.

"What? Seriously? What did you do?"

Misty explained, sore and feeling worn out, she lay back against the foam wedge, and resisted the impulse to hold herself where he'd spanked her.

"You--really? No way!"

Misty nodded.

Alexi... gawked. "You have no idea, do you?"

"Idea of what?" Misty didn't... understand...

"Honey, I'd do a whole Spanking Meet to paired with Kelvin. That master-slave thing--was that his idea?"

Misty blushed, badly. "Mine," she mumbled.

"No shit!? And he--went for it?"

"I was told to be 'enthusiastic' about being punished by him," Misty protested.

"Yeah--but you're a first year freshgirl--and he's the highest ranking member on the Foxtrot--and Foxtails Spanking Team. You have no idea what that means, but trust me, everyone else in that atrium--boys and girls--would've been on their knees, sucking his cock for a chance to trade places with you."

Misty stared. It way, way didn't compute. Alexi studied her, then knelt by her spread legs.

"Don't close or cover up," she said. "Even if it hurts or is uncomfortable."

Misty sniffled, and nodded.

Alexi bent in and kissed her gently on the lips--then more passionately, her tongue invading and exploring her mouth.

She removed Misty's glasses, laying them to the side.

"Misty-slave was your idea?"

Misty snuffled, and nodded.

"Stay open--hands on your belly--mistress will tell you everything to do, okay?"

"Y--yes, mistress," Misty croaked.

Alexi's hands reached down, finding her way around the slim chastity belt and undoing it. Misty gasped as it came away, glistening with her moisture. Alexi gently wet her fingers in Misty's cleft and began small circles around and whispering against, her erect clitoris.

"Uhnnhh," Misty's whimper was part pleasure, part complaint.

"This is mistress's pussy for now, isn't it?" Alexi cooed.

"Yes, mistress," Misty gasped. Alexi laughed and kissed her again.

"Good," Alexi continued to touch her, inflaming her arousal further. "Mistress's cunt better not cum without permission!"

"Yes, mistress," Misty moaned. She spread her thighs a little more, earning another kiss and more tender stroking.

"You're on the cusp of a new awakening--a new world," Alexi whispered, her face close to Misty's, her hand working, coaxing the orgasm up. Misty groaned in pleasure.

Alexi's hand moved like a striking snake to give her breast a spank.

Misty gasped, more in surprise than pain.

"Misty-slave is a little slut, isn't she?"

Misty's eyes widened in shock and shame.

"Tell mistress," Alexi coaxed.

"Misty-slave i-is a l-little slut," she moaned out. As much as this was clearly a game to Alexi, the shame and humiliation for Misty were very real. Alexi grinned, reading her mind.

"Misty-slut is chaffing under domination, isn't she? That's fine, good, really. It isn't proper domination if it's comfortable!" She changed her motion from focusing on Misty's clit to petting and caressing her vulva, which was pleasant but not as... needed. She spread her thighs wider still, but just got another long kiss. The caress continued, but didn't return to the zone of her greatest sexual pleasure.

"In this world you're on the cusp of, this kind of attention from someone like Kelvin is... well, it's like gold. He's like royalty and you're like a kitchen drudge--like Cinderella and he's the prince."

Misty chuffed a small laugh at the thought.

"Your teachers must think... really, really well of you to put you under his care for a whole day."

"They t-think I'm 'hiding,'" Misty said.

Smack! Another spank to her breast. She jolted.

"They-think-Misty-slave-is-hiding, mistress," Alexi corrected her. The smack stung but only that.

"Misty-slave is sorry, mistress," Misty barked out.

"Good. Remember, it's not supposed to be fun for you, just fun for mistress."

"Yes, mistress," Misty said, sourly. Alexi giggled.

"Misty-slave may well be hiding," Alexi allowed, "but there's potential there--more than just Misty-slave's cute face and spankable little bottom!" Misty was still parsing this when she got another kiss, long, passionate, and Alexi's hand again stroked back to her clit.

Ohhh. She arched her back slightly.

"Misty has a chance a lot of girls would give their all for," Alexi said. "An afternoon, much less an evening--and an overnight with Master Kelvin! Misty-slave is going to take full advantage of this opportunity. Does Misty-slave understand?"

Misty... didn't think she did understand, exactly. However she nodded, and it soon became clear.

She spent the next 90 minutes being coached on using her tongue of Alexi's anus. It wasn't... as bad as she was afraid it might be. The woman was clean, fully hairless, and while it was intensely demeaning, and gross--especially being told to get her tongue in deeper, it wasn't unbearable.

She was still drenched in sweat and shame by the time Alexi was satisfied.

She squatted over Misty, who lay prone on the floor, looking up at Alexi's bare midriff and skirtless, panty-less bottom.

"When Master Kelvin returns," Alexi said, looking down at her, "What is Misty-Slave going to do?"

"Offer her mouth, cunt, and rear for his cock, Mistress," Misty repeated. "Cunt first, then rear, then mouth."

"And how should it feel?" Alexi asked.

"Uncomfortable, Mistress, degrading."

"Good slave. Now close your eyes and rest up. When Master Kelvin returns Misty will be quite animated and perky about her submission!"

Misty curled on the floor, as Alexi covered her body with a thin sheet. She was sore and drained, shaken from her humiliation--but the thundering swell of sexual frustration and arousal in her lower regions constantly drew her mind's eye to memories of Kelvin's slight smile and imaginary images of him taking her from behind, a bit roughly, against her spanked buttocks.

She squirmed on the comfortable carpet, days of sexual frustration building in her.

"Mistress?" She asked, her eyes closed, as Kelvin silently entered the room, "How would Misty-slave join the Spanking Team?"

END PART 1