Chapter 1: Welcome to ASTA
Jenn Pherson shifted uneasily on her aching feet. A fine evening meal had been followed
by a two hour `get to know your fellow trainees` session in the resort`s large gym, and
she wasn`t used to standing so long. Adding to her discomfort were the thin, old-fashioned
gym shoes they`d been given to wear. They weren`t the best for standing in and certainly
not on a hardwood floor. The sneakers weren`t the only things wrong with the uniform, Jenn
thought, staring down at her bare legs. Like many young women, she`d lived practically all
her life in jeans and shirts. A thin cotton tennis blouse and short pleated skirt that
reached only halfway down her thighs left her cold -- figuratively as well as literally
--as did the plain white cotton bra and panties provided to go with the uniform. A loud
tapping on a microphone disturbed her internal grumbling and Jenn looked toward the stage
where a slim woman, who looked like she might be the Headmistress of a posh girls` school,
began to speak.
"Welcome to Anya`s Slave Training Academy; ASTA for short. I`m Phyllis
Fanshawe, the Academy`s Head Instructor. Some of you I`ve already met, others will get to
know me as we go along. Now you all know why you`re here but I want to quickly give you
some background to how this all came about. It may help you in the coming weeks to know
you`re not the first trainees we`ve educated in the art of submission -- and that your
reward will be there at the end of your tuition.
Anya is a real person, as you were told at your application interview..."
Jenn smiled. She remembered her first interview and how suspicious the young female
interviewer had been when she found that the word `unemployed` Jenn had written on her
application form meant `unemployed journalism student.` The interview almost ended at that
point and Jenn had had to use all her persuasiveness to move on to the next stage. Even
so, she`d had to have a second interview, with Phyllis Fanshawe herself, before she was
accepted. The second interview she particularly remembered because it included a stinging
spanking to demonstrate what she was letting herself in for...
"Your first interview wasn`t entirely satisfactory, Ms. Pherson,"
Fanshawe had said, as she pushed her way into Jenn`s apartment loaded down with two bags
and a boom-box. She looked like a middle-aged schoolmistress on her way to a dance class.
Her plainly cut, brown hair was neatly pinned to keep it from her face and her expensive
skirt suit, though also neat, had seen better days.
Jenn closed the door and followed her into the living room, somewhat amused at her
brusque manner on entering. "In what way?" she asked.
"You`re a journalist..." Fanshawe began.
"Was a journalist," Jenn interjected. "I haven`t sold a story in
months."
"So now you want to do an expose on ASTA and get back into the big time,"
Fanshawe replied. "Is that it?"
"No, I want to follow up another interest I have," Jenn countered,
watching her unzip one of her bags and pull out a camcorder.
"That`s another problem," Fanshawe said. "You say you have an
interest in S. & M. but you`re not familiar with any of the established works in our
field." She checked the camcorder`s batteries and film cartridge as she spoke.
"You weren`t able to answer questions on The Story of O, for instance, or the
Sleeping Beauty trilogy, for example. Both works I`d expect a female submissive, such as
you claim to be, to know by heart. This doesn`t suggest a strong interest, does it?"
Fanshawe took off her jacket and began to roll up the right sleeve of her white blouse.
Her arms were shapely, as were her legs. It was hard to judge her age; her waist was slim
and breasts and hips firm.
"I`ve no experience, I said that," Jenn answered, defensively.
"Anyway, if I was doing a story don`t you think I`d have done the background
reading?"
Fanshawe raised the camcorder to her eye, and pressed the record button. "I
think either way you should have done your homework," she said brusquely. "But
let`s get down to business; you say you`ve no experience and I`m here to correct
that."
"Why are you recording me?" Jenn asked.
"I`m making a complete record of today`s proceedings so that if you do choose
to write about us, we will have all the evidence we need to prove that everything happened
with your full agreement."
"Everything?" Jenn asked. "You`re taping everything?"
"Oh yes, Ms. Pherson," Fanshawe replied with an icy smile. "We`re
going to have a nice movie of your backside wriggling and reddening under my careful
attention. But before that, you are going to film this room, your birth certificate,
yourself, and then me in a mirror, to show that none of this is coerced. Then you`re going
to give the recorder to me and I`m going to tape you asking me for a spanking. When I
agree to give you one, and I will agree to give you one, you`re going to get me a chair
and push your jeans and knickers down to your knees. You`re going to lie over the chair,
while I set up the camera for the best view."
Jenn gulped. This was even more humiliating than she`d imagined it would be after
talking it over with the woman on the phone the previous day. "Is this really
necessary?` she asked.
"I`m afraid it is," Fanshawe replied, handing her the camcorder.
"Get filming."
Hands shaking, Jenn dutifully followed Fanshawe`s directions, filming everything as
ordered. "Does everyone have to do this?" she asked.
"No, but then we`ve never had a journalist before. You`re privileged,"
Fanshawe replied.
"I`m finished my part of my privilege," Jenn said, handing back the
camera.
"Nonsense, Ms. Pherson, you`re the star of this show. You`re in every scene.
Now stand up straight so we can see your face and ask me nicely for your spanking."
"I don`t know what to say," Jenn said, staring into the camera`s
unblinking eye in fascinated horror.
"I`m sure you`ll think of something if we wait long enough," Fanshawe
replied sardonically.
Realising she would grow more embarrassed with each passing minute, Jenn blurted
out, "Please spank me to convince you I`m sincere about joining ASTA."
"Very good, Ms. Pherson. Now place one of those dinner table chairs right
here." Fanshawe pointed to a spot midway between them.
Jenn placed the chair as directed.
"Tsk, tsk, Ms. Pherson. I`m right-handed and the camera is going to be on the
table over there. Your bottom will be on completely the wrong side, won`t it? Turn the
chair round, if you please."
As Jenn adjusted the chair, Fanshawe walked to the table, filming as she went.
"Good, good. Now the pants down," she said, placing the camera on the
table. Keeping her eye in the viewfinder, Fanshawe bent over and provided Jenn with clear
evidence her behind was as hard as the rest of her appeared.
Jenn, feeling she was in a nightmare, unbuttoned her jeans and slid them, and her
knickers, down to her knees. This wasn`t as exciting as it was in her dreams. It was
frightening.
"Now lie over the chair, that`s it. Hold it there while I zoom in. Good,"
Fanshawe said, straightening up. After starting a loud, rock tape on the boom box, she
walked over to Jenn and patted Jenn`s bottom. "You can get up now," she said,
"at least for a moment."
Jenn stood to attention, hands pressed into her crotch hiding her triangle of red
pubic hair. Fanshawe gave another thin smile and plunked herself heavily onto the seat.
"I should tell you, Ms. Pherson," Fanshawe said. "I and the owner of
ASTA completely disagree about you. The owner is a very dynamic and powerful woman who
fears no one. I, on the other hand, love my job and don`t want a snotty bitch like you
putting me out of work. I don`t buy your story one little bit and I intend to spend the
next few minutes convincing you to go and seek your fame and fortune exposing someone
else. I`ll need to see something good on that tape to convince me otherwise."
Jenn`s stomach fluttered. She knew what `something good` meant and the thought
excited her. At last, the feelings she thought would appear at a moment like this did
appear. Her clitoris began to swell and moistness crept through her pussy, tickling its
folds. She almost laughed for joy. She knew nothing about being spanked but she could get
testimonials on her oral technique.
"Now, Ms. Pherson," Fanshawe said. "If I haven`t already convinced
you to quit, get over my lap. This is something I`ve longed to do to a journalist for
years. I hate the trade, and all who ply and pry in it."
She patted her lap and Jenn lay over it without argument. She blushed when Fanshawe
wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her legs roughly apart. The thought of what the
woman could see `back there` both embarrassed and excited her. Grasping the chair leg with
one hand, and Fanshawe`s leg with the other, she took a deep breath, like someone about to
dive underwater, and closed her eyes. It was best not to know what was happening now.
The first slap was a surprise. It stung but wasn`t unpleasant. No worse than a good
luck swat. She breathed out. Maybe it wouldn`t be so bad after all. The second slap on her
other cheek was like the first. In fact, it was almost playful. The trick was to relax and
absorb it. More playful swats confirmed her opinion. They warmed her cheeks and the
vibrations titillated her clitoris, which fluttered welcome, almost liquid, tremors of
sexual need through her midriff. She was very pleased with herself. She`d go to ASTA after
all and make her small fortune. And become a famous novelist, and ... the next smack stung
so much she squealed. Gasping for air, she twisted round in time to see Fanshawe`s hand
striking her other cheek, whitening and flattening it. Jenn yelped.
The warmth in her nether regions quickly became a raging fire, as Fanshawe`s hand
settled to its task. Jenn twisted and struggled desperately to escape the blows raining
down on her burning cheeks but the arm around her waist held her securely.
"Please," she began to cry out, and stopped herself when she realised the
neighbours might hear. She gritted her teeth. Tears stung her eyes. If it didn`t stop soon
she`d be crying and she couldn`t stand that. She was ugly when she cried, her nose ran,
her mouth drooled and her skin became pale and blotchy. She mustn`t cry. The woman must
stop!
"Please, stop," she cried out. "No more. I`ve had enough." Her
words were punctuated by stinging, ringing smacks that were swallowed up by the driving
rhythm of the rock music drowning out all her cries.
Fanshawe didn`t pause or even look in her direction. She kept her attention on the
work at hand. Jenn began to sob, as much from humiliation at knowing how she looked when
crying as from pain. The pain was forgotten. She just didn`t want to be seen by anyone
like this. She sagged, all the strength gone from her body. Large wet tears plopped onto
the carpet only inches from her nose, darkening its beige hue. She buried her face in her
hands, feeling the salty wetness against her skin.
Fanshawe stopped smacking and Jenn barely noticed. Somehow it wasn`t important any
more. Her worst nightmare had already happened. From a long way away she heard a voice
ordering her to her feet. It was hard to catch her breath, even though she was taking in
great gulps of air. Her breasts heaved as she gasped and mewled piteously. She found
Fanshawe hard to see; her eyes were so blurred with tears. In time, when she`d finished
comforting her sore bottom, she rubbed her eyes clear, only to see Fanshawe`s satisfied
smirk and pointing finger.
Jenn sank to her knees and pushed her head up the woman`s skirt. Her hands still
shook, but now with an urgent need for release. A need Fanshawe clearly reciprocated, for
her panties were sopping when Jenn`s fingers pulled the gusset aside. Jenn tenderly ran
her fingers along the length of the other woman`s crack. She ran her tongue along the
lips, opening them with her fingers. Pressing her face deeper into the furry grotto, Jenn
thrust tongue deep into Fanshawe`s warm tunnel. She wanted something good and that was
what Jenn was going to give. Getting into ASTA had now become a personal battle between
them, a battle Jenn was determined to win. Slowly pressing her head gently forwards and
backwards she stretched and relaxed the mushy flesh of Fanshawe`s cunt, only occasionally
pausing to rasp her tongue across the woman`s clitoris. Fanshawe moaned. She pushed her
hips forward, seeking to press her sensitive clit head against Jenn face. Jenn eased back.
Fanshawe could wriggle all she liked, as Jenn had across her knee. She`d find Jenn as
implacable as she`d been. Jenn spread the woman`s lips further apart, lapping the dewy
drops that trickled among the folds, and nibbling the engorged clitoris gently. Fanshawe
sat forward, grasping Jenn`s hair and ears with both hands, willing her to end this
delightful torment. Jenn smiled and slowly shook her head, still stopping short, making
Fanshawe cry out in frustration.
When Fanshawe`s fingernails dug sharply into her ears, Jenn decided it was time for
her to come. She stroked the underside of Fanshawe`s clit and the throbbing coursing
throughout the swollen member became a steady pounding that filled her mouth and senses
with its rhythmic beat. Her own arousal began to wash over her, and her dampness trickled
down the inside of her thighs. Pressing her face up against the frantic woman`s clitoris,
she slid her tongue inside the hot sweet-tasting tunnel. Fanshawe slowly collapsed over
Jenn`s head; burying her face so forcefully Jenn thought she`d suffocate. As Fanshawe
shuddered in ecstasy above her, Jenn`s own warm, sensual, quiet orgasm flooded her senses.
It was the kind she loved best, so feminine and loving; unlike the harsh, selfish, cold,
and masculine ones she occasionally experienced when her clitoris was the driver.
Fanshawe lay still on Jenn`s back, slowly recovering. Her eyes devoured Jenn`s
reddened buttocks, almost the same colour as her fiery red hair, and she came to a
decision.
"You will receive your invitation to ASTA in the next few days, Ms.
Pherson," Fanshawe said, at last.
Jenn paused for a moment from her steady sucking and licking of the last drops of
feeling. "Thank you, Ma`am," she whispered.
"... After arriving in the West," Fanshawe`s voice jolted Jenn back to
the present. She hoped she hadn`t missed anything important. "Anya found that our
capitalist philosophy of making money by giving people what they want was exactly in tune
with her thinking. She made lots of money in a number of business ventures, and still
does. She opened the Academy as a labour of love. It doesn`t make money but it satisfies a
lot of needs that struggle to be met in the normal world. Specifically, your need to serve
a master or mistress, and a master or mistress`s need for someone to serve them..."
Jenn took another sip of wine; tucked her shoulder-length wavy red hair behind her
ear, and surveyed the audience. Apart from herself, there were fifteen young women and
four young men trainees, all in the neat, white tennis outfits the Academy used as a
uniform, the only difference being where the girls wore short pleated skirts the boys wore
equally short shorts. If there were many Mistresses out there they`d better be gay, Jenn
thought, admiring the group.
Every trainee was attractive, and some of the other women were stunningly
beautiful. She felt a momentary surge of pride that she should be included in the
selection, she`d always felt ambivalent about her appearance. She took stock,
surreptitiously comparing herself to her neighbours out of the corner of her eye. Her
breasts didn`t stretch her T-shirt quite so well as the brunette nearby but they were
perkier, more champagne glass to the other`s melon, and, while her legs may not be as
tanned as the haughty blonde`s to her left, they were shapely and long. Legs up to her
chin, she`d once heard a man comment admiringly. And she was smugly happy to compare her
super-model slim waist, which gracefully swept into girlish hips and bum, with any of the
girls here. The same lack of funds that had driven her to even considering this way of
making her fortune had proved to be a powerful slimming agent over the past year when she
hadn`t sold a story.
Two Instructors, easily identified by their all-covering sweat suits, were young
women and hard-bodied, attractive ones at that and two were handsome male Instructors,
about Jenn`s age, who`s surveillance of the female trainees proclaimed their proclivities
without question.
"... You`re our third set of graduates," Fanshawe continued, "and
every one of the previous two school`s was placed advantageously. The first ones will be
picking up their end-of-contract money this month and could be set up for life, if they`re
sensible with the money. And, by the way, more than one of them will be staying with their
multi-millionaire Masters and Mistresses. You will do just as well if you learn your
lessons. I urge you to remember that in the following weeks. Of course, you must love the
slave`s life too, otherwise it will be just a miserable year of servitude and no amount of
money can make up for that.
One thing we learned from the previous classes was that we must start with a short,
sharp shock. Our pupils all said so. It`s best to learn the worst in the first weekend,
then, if this life is not for you, you can return to your regular job on Monday and
nothing`s lost. Dropping out after a week or more is too disruptive. I hope you can see
where I`m leading. Tonight is the start of your short, sharp shock."
A nervous murmuring, and some suppressed laughter, followed this simply spoken, but
ominous, statement. Jenn and the young Eurasian man nearest exchanged glances, and Jenn
whispered, "It can`t be worse than my interview."
Jenn was about to elaborate when the Instructor said, "Listen carefully to
what I`m about to say because, as with all commands in ASTA, it will not be repeated. When
I say so, you will return to your rooms where an Instructor will come and prepare you for
your nighttime punishment. You will always be punished at bedtime while you are here -- no
matter how much you`ve been punished throughout the day. If necessary, we will find some
unpunished part and whip that. After you have been prepared tonight, the Instructor will
leave and you will remain in position until a different Instructor comes to begin your
course of physical instruction. This is the part we used to do gently; thinking it would
allow the trainees to accustom themselves. You won`t have that luxury. Tonight will be
painful and so will tomorrow night. Then, those who want to leave can do so on
Sunday."
There was silence this time. No one laughed; all felt the full impact. The word
`painful` resonated in the room.
"Return to you rooms now. But remember you must all assemble tomorrow morning
outside the main entrance at 6 o`clock. We begin all our days with exercise."
Jenn finished her wine, placed her glass on a nearby ledge, and followed the others
out of the gym. The group grew smaller as its members peeled off into their rooms along
the oak-panelled corridor. ASTA may not make money but plenty had been spent on renovating
the old stately home into a modern conference, or fitness-style, resort, which it was for
all but a few weeks of the year. Jenn`s room was at the end of the corridor. Her hand was
on the doorknob preparing to enter, when the young man who she`d spoken to in the gym
stopped her by asking, "Have you had any experience?"
His accent was a confident private school English, but his pale heart-shaped face
betrayed an inner anxiety.
"Not a lot," Jenn said. "Have you? What about school?"
The boy and he seemed little more than a schoolboy shook his head. He swept his
long blue-black hair nervously back from his face.
"But you must have wanted to," Jenn said, "or you wouldn`t be
here."
"I`ve always fantasised but never actually done it. I didn`t tell them that,
of course. It seemed a perfect way to make my fortune without too much effort. I mean, how
difficult can it be to just do as you`re told? But now I`m not so sure."
"I`m the same," Jenn said, ignoring her interview experience. The boy
sounded like he needed the comfort of knowing he wasn`t alone in his virginity.
"It`ll be all right, you`ll see. Worse in your imagination than it is in real
life."
"I hope so," he said with a faint smile. He went inside the room next to
Jenn`s and closed the door. Jenn sighed, she thought her neighbour too young and innocent
for what would come next. Jenn closed her door and went to the bathroom. Her interview had
taught her that was a wise thing to do.
She retired to her bed and re-read the rules they`d been given on arrival, while
she waited for the Instructor. There were so many rules to remember. Rules about dress,
posture, speaking, deportment, manners, and more. Like her little neighbour, she was
realising the life of a slave was more complicated than she`d imagined. She too had
assumed she`d just do as her Master told her and the simplicity of the lifestyle had
appealed to her almost as much as the fantasies of submitting to a masterful man.
A sound next door caught her attention. It was her neighbour`s door opening and
closing. The Instructors had arrived at this farther end of the corridor already. Jenn
didn`t know if she was happy or sad about that, was it better to get it over with or enjoy
her present comfort as long as she could? She heard the murmur of voices, or maybe just
one voice.
The bedside clock ticked loudly as the minutes slipped by. She strained to hear
what was happening next door, her lessons lying beside her on the bed forgotten. Footsteps
advanced down the corridor and stopped at her door. Jenn`s heart beat fast, so fast she
could hardly breathe. The door opened and a young female Instructor entered. She smiled
grimly at Jenn, as the door clicked shut behind her like a prison gate. Crooking her
finger, she signalled Jenn to stand. Jenn rose shakily to her feet, realising she`d broken
one of the rules she`d just been reading.
"Go to that corner," the Instructor said, pointing. "The one left
empty for just that purpose. You`re fortunate you picked tonight to ignore the rule about
standing in the presence of an Instructor. Tomorrow you would be punished for your lack of
respect."
Jenn nodded. She couldn`t speak her mouth was so dry. Feeling weak at the knees,
she walked unsteadily to the corner of the room. When her elbows touched the two walls,
she looked nervously over her shoulder to the Instructor.
"Face the corner, legs apart at shoulder width, and put your hands in the
small of your back," the Instructor commanded.
Jenn obeyed though she wanted to tell the woman she wouldn`t. The Instructor was no
older than she was and Jenn found she resented the other girl`s authority.
"That is how you will be every night of the course at this time, with one
small addition - or I should say, subtraction. Your knickers! And those you can remove
now. Come back to me." Jenn returned to stand in front of the Instructor,
remembering the rule about not looking them in the eye. Jenn studied the woman`s shapely
feet in their high-heeled sandals with thin, black straps that reached to her slender
ankles. The black material suited the woman`s golden skin, which looked tanned even though
Jenn felt sure it couldn`t be.
"Take off your panties and lay them neatly on the bed." The Instructor`s
accent was American but not New York or California like you heard in the movies.
Jenn fumbled under her tennis skirt for the waistband of her panties and slipped
them down her legs -- very conscious of the nakedness she was leaving behind. She had to
stoop to get them off her feet and found herself blushing hotly at the position she was
in, bowing before this young woman.
"Lay them neatly on the bed," the Instructor said. "Then return to
the corner."
Jenn ground her teeth as she followed these orders. Would a please or thank you
kill her, she thought savagely.
"I want you to look back to the bed for a moment," the Instructor
continued. "How you and the room are now is how you must be every evening at ten
while you are here. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Jenn growled. She`d leave on Sunday. Whatever else she had to do
to make a living from her writing, it couldn`t be worse than taking humiliating orders
from a young woman. When she`d signed up she`d imagined the instructors would be men. She
wasn`t sure why she thought that would be more acceptable than this. She just did.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Ma`am," Jenn replied. While she waited for Sunday, she`d best not
make life more unpleasant than she had to. Maybe she`d leave Saturday.
"One last time, fix the scene in your mind. Any deviation, any untidiness of
the room or you will be cause for additional punishment."
Jenn dutifully looked about but without interest. She wasn`t staying anyway, what
did it matter.
"Now come back to me, bringing with you the chair you see to your left,"
the Instructor said.
Jenn thumped the chair down in front of the woman, staring defiantly into her dark
Spanish eyes. In an instant, the Instructor slapped Jenn`s face with her open hand,
leaving red finger marks on Jenn`s pale cheek. Jenn gasped in surprise and her hand flew
up to her stinging face. The Instructor smiled. It wasn`t a nice smile. It said, I`ll have
you tomorrow, my girl, see if I don`t.
Her red lips parted, showing absurdly white teeth. "Looking an Instructor in
the eye is normally an immediately punishable offence but you can consider this time as
probationary. If you repeat the offence tomorrow, I`ll give you a double dose," the
woman said. "Now, turn the chair so the back is toward the door."
Jenn spun it round angrily. This was ridiculous.
"You come to this side and stand behind the chair with your hips touching the
back."
Sullenly, Jenn obeyed.
"Now bend over until your forearms are flat on the seat. Grip the edge of the
seat with your fingers and see they don`t move from there."
Jenn hesitated. Maybe she should quit now and tell this woman she was leaving right
away. "This is the time to leave, if you want to," the Instructor said suddenly,
as though she`d read Jenn`s thoughts. "No sense in waiting till Sunday. Leave now,
save yourself some welts and bruises." Her tone was gently mocking and contemptuous.
Jenn flushed hotly. Who did this bitch think she was, sneering at people she didn`t
know? Jenn could take anything these people could dish out -- and more. She bent over and
assumed the position, settling herself comfortably. She felt the Instructor lift her skirt
over her back and tuck it into the waistband. Jenn froze in horror as the woman`s finger
lightly traced circles on her buttocks. Goosebumps rose and fell where the fingertips
strayed. She`d wouldn`t, would she? Jenn had never had a lesbian experience of that kind;
she gripped the chair tightly as if that could prevent those teasing fingers penetrating
her.
"Good. Now, put your feet either side of the back legs of the chair till the
chair leg is about halfway along the inside of your foot. You can put your knees either
side of the chair back too, if you find that more comfortable than pressing them on the
wood. Bending over with straight legs takes a bit of practice." The Instructor pushed
her hands between Jenn`s thighs, gently easing them apart. Jenn let her knees slide by the
chair back. She felt her moist lower lips slowly pulling apart, like a purse unzipping.
She prayed the Instructor would leave soon. The thought of what the woman might do was
more than Jenn could bear.
"I`ll leave you now," the young woman said. "You stay exactly as you
are till the next Instructor arrives."
Jenn heard the door close and the room was silent. Quiet enough to hear something
she`d missed while the Instructor was talking and she was inwardly raging. There came a
rhythmic smacking and yelping from the next room. Her poor little neighbour was already
getting his bedtime punishment. Jenn listened intently. The crying was growing louder, or
was it her imagination? The slaps too seemed harder. Jenn`s room filled with the sounds of
skin on skin and almost girlish crying. She could hear the boy pleading, begging his
tormentor to stop, please stop, but the smacking continued without a pause. Jenn`s bottom
tingled in sympathy and frightened anticipation. "Oh, God," Jenn whimpered, as
her neighbours cries grew to a climax. Jenn wanted to get up and run. Her ears strained to
hear something comforting next door, some sound that might betoken pleasure. There was
none, only a pitiful howling and merciless smacking. Jenn saw her hands shivering and her
backside squirmed in the air, avoiding smacks that hadn`t yet arrived.
She was so focused on the spanking next door; she failed to hear the footsteps
approaching her door until the door opened. Jenn stopped in mid-squirm. She could see a
man`s feet through her legs and she realised at once what he could see. Her bottom and
pussy would be centre stage for him. They were not five feet from the door and turned up
for easy viewing. Not only were her hungry lower lips on display, spread as she was he
must be able to see her bum hole, something so private she`d never knowingly let anyone
see. She watched him close the door and step forward. His fingertips brushed her skin and
she shivered. How could she ever have imagined it would be easier with a strange man?
"You were placed in this submissive posture," the man said, "to give
you a taste of what was to come and to weed out those without self-discipline. However,
this position is for adults who have earned the right to manage themselves. You haven`t
yet. Stand up and go back to the corner."
Jenn rose stiffly, her muscles complaining about the service they`d been put to.
She stood quietly in the corner, hands in the small of her back, pleased that at least the
essential part of her womanhood, and that naughty other orifice, were now hidden from his
sight. She wished she could cover her lower cheeks with her hands but didn`t dare. From
what she`d heard next door, inviting more punishment would be too painful to bear.
"Good. Now come back here," the Instructor said, after too few minutes.
Jenn returned to the chair on which the man was now sitting. He grasped her wrist
and pulled her sharply to his right side. She stared at his lap, hardly able to believe
what was about to happen. Why did she have to suffer this? She`d proved herself already
with Fanshawe.
"Come along, young lady," the Instructor said with a grin, feeling her
reluctance. "Time for your daily dozen." He drew Jenn down onto his lap. She
bent slowly at first, until her balance shifted and she sprawled unceremoniously across
his thighs. He laughed and began tidying her limbs to his satisfaction. Her left arm,
still in his grasp, was pressed into the small of her back and his elbow firmly centred
between her shoulder blades pinioned her body. With his free hand he pulled her legs so
far apart she felt she`d split. His hand rubbed her thighs, lingering in the hinge where
her silkiest hair responded to his touch by sending shivers up her spine. His fingers
traced the crease running from her mons to her tailbone and Jenn responded as any young
woman would, her juices began to flow and her heart thump.
The Instructor changed his strategy. He cupped each buttock in turn, gently rubbing
and kneading the hemispheres until goose bumps paraded from stem to stern on Jenn`s
rounded beam. Then, when a groan betrayed her need, he changed again, running his middle
finger back down the crease from tailbone to anus. Here he paused. Jenn scrunched herself
as tight as she could as his finger circled that virgin bud. The finger withdrew,
continuing its path over her short bridge of skin to the next waiting orifice. Here he
began to plough her furrow, not deeply, just opening the crevice to the cool air. Jenn
wriggled, willing herself to maintain the open and vulnerable position he`d placed her in.
She was sure no good would come of not doing so.
"Very nice," he said, his finger brushing the tip of her erect clitoris
as it left her lips; lips that longed for more. "Now, you have a bottom aching to be
smacked and my duty is to smack your bottom till it aches. We`re a team."
At those words, Jenn tried to clench her cheeks only to find she couldn`t. With her
legs apart she just couldn`t. She looked fearfully over her shoulder in time to see his
hand swooping down and landing with a loud smack on her right cheek. She squealed. This
wasn`t like the interview spanking, which started gently. This was a full-blooded wallop
and the next, on her left cheek, was exactly the same. "Ow! Not so hard," Jenn
protested.
The Instructor worked methodically. She had to give him that. He went up one side
of her and down the other, every stroke overlapping the last until each buttock felt so
hot and sore Jenn began to kick and struggle. She arched her back and kicked her legs, all
the while crying, "No more. I`ll leave tomorrow, honestly I will."
Jenn`s struggles threatened to tip her off his lap and she felt his grip harden as
he fought to keep her under control. It only made her more desperate. She dug her toes
into the carpet trying to get enough purchase to push herself away. It was no use. He had
too much experience dealing with unwilling miscreants and continued with his work,
choosing the tender backs of her thighs for his final flurry of spanks. Jenn sobbed, then,
with one last despairing kick, gave up. She laid across his lap, accepting her punishment
without further dissent, all her energy gone.
He stopped and watched her twitch and shudder, her purple-red globes dancing
together as if they had a life separate from their owner. He waited as her sobbing changed
to hiccups and sniffles, then said, "Up."
Jenn stood awkwardly at his side almost crouching so she could hold her bottom with
both hands. Her head was bowed and tears dropped from the tip of her nose to the floor.
She wished, as she had before, that she didn`t cry so easily.
The man seemed unmoved by her plight. He just pointed to the corner and said,
"And keep your hands off your butt. No rubbing till I say so."
Gradually, Jenn`s sobbing grew quieter and she recovered her composure. The room
was so still, she wasn`t even sure he was there and she didn`t dare look. His voice, when
he spoke, made her jump.
"I`ve set the alarm clock on your bedside table for 15 minutes. You will stay
where you are till it rings. Then you will go to bed, after remembering to reset the clock
for tomorrow morning. Believe me, you don`t want to be late."
The door closed and Jenn breathed a sigh of relief. She relaxed but didn`t leave
the corner. Who knows what methods they had for ensuring compliance, she thought. Cold
sweat prickled her skin. Was the room bugged or videoed? She was determined to look before
she slept.
Her search of the room revealed nothing obvious and she switched off the light
gratefully, curling up in the crisp, white sheets. After her recent exertions, she felt
blissfully sleepy. Her eyes closed but the picture that sprang immediately into her mind
was of her bending over and the Instructor invading her, his belly bumping sharply against
her tender buttocks. Jenn drew her knees up to her chin until her thighs pressed against
her breasts. Her erect nipples throbbed as she rubbed them back and forth on her thighs,
shivering with excitement. She ran her fingers down the back of her thighs and across her
sore skin. It didn`t hurt as much as she`d expected and the heat was exciting. Her fingers
strayed round her curves until they touched her nether lips, those lower lips that had
been inviting the Instructor in when he entered her room. A tingle like electricity melted
her insides, working its way up her body until even her upper lips trembled tenderly. She
ran her tongue across them, savouring the feeling. Curled tightly as she was, her pussy
was pushed out, brazenly extending beyond the sheltering curves where it usually hid. With
a contented sigh, Jenn slipped two fingers inside the soft, wet tunnel and gently rubbed
the moisture across her clitoris. The butterfly fluttering of her muscles changed at once
into powerful pulsing that demanded more. She pushed her fingers so deeply into her slick
tunnel that her thumb drove hard against her engorged bud. Jenn bit her lip to stop
herself crying out in pleasure, a cry that may well bring the wrath of the Instructors
down on her already punished backside. But the pulsing, shuddering muscles would not be
denied and at her next stroke her whole body bucked in an orgasm that was unlike any she`d
ever experienced. It was one of the hard ones, and yet this time it felt womanly. It felt
right. Mewing quietly into her pillow, like a sleepy cat, Jenn laid shivering and smiling.
ASTA was fine. ASTA was wonderful. She`d stay after all.
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