Claire, Interrupted

(All characters over 18. Fetish content for an adult audience; read at own discretion)

- 1 -

When many young women came of age physically, they typically retained an inexperienced naïvety of those who were ignorant of their real purpose, and for that they needed to be educated.

This took place in special schools designed to guide the girls towards sexual maturity. Old, prejudiced ideas, such as a woman needed to cover her private parts in the presence of men and other women, were to be corrected; instead, one was to make herself readily available, at any moment and at anyone's request.

In such a school, the girls would be placed down in the cellar, in small cell-like rooms that would be rotated on a weekly basis. Each was fashioned only with two plain bunk beds and nothing else. No closet, drawer, or any form of personal possession in fact: a new set of uniform, the slutty design of which changed from day to day, was handed out every morning during their breakfast.

The beds themselves were narrow and short, that the taller girls' feet would stick out at the other end when lying straight, so they resolved to curl up tight during the night, like infants. The mattress, in turn, was hard and unpleasant, and the slightest movement in the upper deck would produce an unbearable creaky noise from the frame. The room's white barren walls were not far apart, so that the two girls on either side could join each other's hands from their beds.

But the girls could not touch, to speak, or even gesture to each other at night. Only silence and rest were allowed after every door had been locked by the custodian. If caught, one was punished by harsh flogging with a wooden stick at fleshy places where a woman could take the most pain without being seriously hurt, such as in her buttock and thighs. If one happened to have sizable tits then those were also targeted, though with far lighter force.

In fact, the girls were regularly flogged in the middle of the night, with no apparent reason but as a prescription for their health, for the pain was said to help their two adjacent orifices in the crotch stay tight after a day's rigorous training. The rooms had no toilet inside, and one needed to go down the hallway to use the communal bathroom. The girls had since learned to use it before the custodian came to turn off the lights and lock their doors until dawn.

- 2 -

Not long after their room was locked, Claire realized that she had made a mistake, that she did not go to the bathroom when she should have. She sensed that she would soon suffer the consequence for being so lazy, though she still didn't know just had bad her night would go.

That day the class was introduced to a new form of exercise, which was more complicated than any they had seen before. The coach chose Claire and three older boys for a demonstration. The boys were known bullies and took the opportunity to abuse Claire badly in front of everyone. No one dared to intervene, for it was exactly what the coach wanted: she was one of those stubborn, self-important girls who refused to recognize their place in this new order, and thus needed to be taught a lesson.

That cruel lesson almost broke her sexually, but worse was the public humiliation of her forced climax, not once, nor twice, but three times in total. What a slut! She heard the other girls commenting on her excellent performance with such scorn and jealousy. But this was not who she was! Before coming here she was a quiet homegirl from a respectable family. Apparently, her civil behavior and reserved character were mistaken for aloofness and even an inclination for rebellion.

When the day drew to a close Claire skipped supper and went back to the dorm, to her bed in the right upper deck, where alone she trembled and wept. The other three girls were kind not to disturb her when they returned later. Time passed quickly in an oblivion; when she finally felt recovered from her melancholy, the custodian had left, and the iron door to the outside world was sealed with a ruthless impenetrability. An acute hunger gripped her stomach, but a more urgent issue, which soon came to Claire, was an abundant feeling in her bladder.

The night was still young. She laid on her bed listening to her roommates' soft breathing. Everyone was exhausted and fast asleep, except her. An unbearable hour or two passed; she knew not precisely. Through the little cellar window Claire could see the moon in its pale crescent slowly rising. Meanwhile the situation with her bladder was slowly getting desperate.

There was no container of any sort in the room. She thought about the wicked idea of relieving right in her own sheet, but the odor would sure awake her roommates (which she would feel sorry for but didn't really worry about), and the crime discovered by the terrifying custodian. For such transgression she would be disciplined in the most severe form: to be bound and gaged and left in the innermost shower stall in the mens' bathroom upstairs, for an entire day and night, all without any safeguarding or supervision. Claire quivered at such an image. But time flew away mercilessly and her lower abdomen began to hurt as she tried to restrain herself.

Suddenly there was walking of heavy boots from the hallway, and Claire's heart was seized by an unspeakable terror. For it was none but the custodian. What else could he be doing in the girls' dorm at this hour, other than to wipe and flog them? She held her breath and listened: it got closer and closer. Please, please move on, she begged God. Let it not be us tonight. For a moment it seemed like the custodian was moving further away, but with an abruptness the steps he turned back and retracted, one step by another, until he was in front of her door. She heard him unlocking and almost gasped. The inevitable had come.

The light was turned on, and the others slowly awoke to the terror as well. They opened their eyes to see the custodian, a tall and weathered figure in his fifties with a quite hideous appearance, standing next to their steel beds and holding a wooden stick in his right hand. The girls' eyes were almost instantly filled with tears and in an expression as if to ask: why, or rather, why so soon? The custodian, in turn, never gave any other reason than that "it's been your turn."

They all knew how this worked. The girls quickly got out of their warm beds and went to kneel by the lower deck on the left side (it had always been the left side so the custodian could rightly exert force with his right hand); together they laid their stomachs on the bed and pulled their nightgowns up above their waists, so that their petite buttocks, like full moons, rose up in their silver roundness. With some difficulty, clenching her thighs somewhat, Claire carefully balanced herself through each step down the cold ladder. She was the last to lay down by her roommates, and this the custodian duly took notice.

The flogging began from the left. Claire could hear the hissing in the air as the custodian wielded the long stick down on that unfortunate girl. The four were kneeling so close to each other that each trembling spasm of one could be felt by the other three, as if the beating was on their bodies too. The cries were muffled, broken from induced hyperventilation. It was the meaninglessly violent delight that their torturer enjoyed the most, as he marked their fair bottom with one after another red swollen welt, which, by the time he finished with all four of them, would have condensed in a fine dark purple.

The last hit was administered; it was clear that the girl beside Claire could take no more tonight. Claire knew her turn had come, and prepared herself, though she knew it was in vain, for her bladder was so full and stretched that it began to hurt. Still, she tensed up her rear and concentrated all of her attention on a little rusted nail in the wall she was facing. This method had delivered before for her to lessen the pain and there was nothing else at hand which she could rely on. The custodian moved behind Claire but did not hit her immediately, perhaps taking a break from all the hard work.

She ground her teeth and waited for the blow. It did not occur within her estimate. The momentum was slipping by, and her muscles were starting to cramp. For a moment Claire's mind went astray and wandered elsewhere, to the other three girls beside her - yearning, coping, turning, struggling. They were masturbating each other, one's hands sandwiched tight between another's loins, busy stimulating the blindspots. What lewdness! Claire found herself glancing at them, drawn to that perverse energy.

Then without warning, the first blow came, and it landed scarcely above where her sex was. Claire felt an instant electric shock ran through her whole torso and limbs, and her entire defense was breached in one hit. The shameful liquid she had been holding for so long was immediately let free and started to drip out, but before there was enough time for it to form a stream, the second blow came, as hard as the first, and Claire's involuntary act of wetting herself was forcefully interrupted. Her body coiled up in pain and was about to collapse onto the cold floor.

By now the custodian must have realized what a surprise the girl had prepared for him, as he suddenly held her in place and started beating Claire in a relentless and brazen manner, each blow harder than the one before, leaving her no respite to clear the waste water out of her long-burdened system. In pitifully small outbursts they came out, one immediately suppressed by an excruciating blow on the rear, which resulted in yet another despaired eruption from between her legs. Her continued failure to properly relieve herself was almost comical to a bystander.

Claire thought she was dying; her mind became a murmuring chaos as her pelvic muscles went through timeless rapid contraction. With each blow so close to her sensitive womanhood, she had unknowingly entered the long, wet slide down to a total orgasm. She started to moan like a street whore in heat. The custodian finally stopped and let her finish in a most violent discharge of urine and other female ejaculations. When it was done, her yellow pee ran down past the other girls' feet to form a little pool at the door. Their cell was ruined! Claire knew she could not escape any punishment now.

"Do you know what you have done?" The custodian asked.

She nodded timidly.

"Then you know what awaits you tomorrow."

Claire was silent, still kneeling and facing the wall.

"Say it. What sort of punishment awaits you tomorrow?"

"They will bring me to the men's bathroom, and leave me there."

A heavy blow suddenly fell on her already swollen buttock; she almost screamed.

"Be precise. What will they do with you?"

"While in their bathroom, the men will have fun with me, do whatever they see fit."

"Such as?"

"They will train me as usual, but harder, and won't care if they hurt me."

Several blows came as she had expected. Claire trembled from the pain; it was her reward. The other three girls lied on the same bed, stupefied by the excessive violence tonight.

"Look at you little whores..." The custodian mumbled behind her in a dreary voice. He beat the other girls some more, and then Claire as well. It sounded like he was about to depart. But he turned around again and addressed Claire:

"Listen, child: I might just spare you for your misdeed, if you will do this one thing for me and have my satisfaction. Consider this your lucky night."

There were owls outside, she heard them, deep in the nearby forest, like laughters mocking her.

- 3 -

It was Claire's first time outside of her room past the hour of silence. She walked in barefoot behind him, down the narrow hallway, until they reached the girls' bathroom. It was relatively clean and smelt of vanilla shampoo.

"Take your frock off."

She did what he asked. Her dark nipples stood erect from the friction. Claire was flat-chested, with her slim figure deceptively virgin-like. The pallor of her skin was extremely enticing in its frailty, especially after being marked by those hideous soft scars of a thick wooden stick.

He had her put on a pair of red mule slippers; they were close-toed, with soft faux fur on top and heels that transformed her feet into a gentle arch. Claire was not used to wearing shoes like these and was dragging her feet on the floor.

Then, the custodian pointed at one of the Turkish toilets in the ground. There was no stall between the toilets or the showers; the entire bathroom was a single open space with nothing to hide from the eyes of an inspector.

"Squat on it. I want to see you use it."

What a vile request! But she was in no power to protest. When she squatted down her butt hurt.

The Turkish toilets were always an intimidating existence. Usually one was held steady by another girl, but now Claire had to do it alone, and she had great difficulty balancing herself on the slippery ceramic footholds. The profile of her squatting nudity was Venus-like: the way her white calves and thighs tensed up above that pair of exquisite red mules, and how her back arched, her narrow shoulder perched forward in such an awkward manner... She pulled some hair down to her forehead to obscure her face from the custodian.

After a short time some drips of urine came out. That was all she had left after the earlier deluge. She felt the splash on her calves.

Claire thought she could leave now, and was waiting for the custodian's words, but instead he gave her a new order.

"No. I have seen that already. I want to see the other one."

At first Claire did not get what he meant, but soon she understood. What a sick idea, to make fun of her this way. She began to cry anew.

"I can't. Sorry."

"You must do it."

After some more useless sobbing and wasting time, Claire faced down her dilemma and accepted her assigned fate. She began to make a visible effort to concentrate and push, and the area around the knot bulged out slightly. Her anus was pulsating, but her bowels were unresponsive. A despair again washed over her.

"I really can't. There's nothing."

But the custodian was adamant in his request. He leaned upon the wall behind him and crossed his legs, ready to relish in her plight.

After what seemed like an age, Claire finally began to feel the unspeakable thing moving her way.

It felt hard and dry--it must have been a few days since she last moved her bowels. Claire struggled to work it out. Her legs had gone numb from squatting. Her packed toes in the slippers' pointy fronts started to hurt in their confinement.

The custodian saw her expression tense up and got behind her. The very first tip was now beginning to emerge from between her young thighs.

"Lift your hips a little. I want to see it clearly."

He could hardly contain the throbbing excitement beneath his stale voice.

Claire obeyed, offering him a better rear view. The darkness continued to move out of her tight hole at an excruciating pace. A faint stench began to permeate the air.

She gave it one last push and the hideous waste finally left her body and dropped on the ceramic surface below. She let out a soft fart. There were more to come.

"Good. Keep at it."

She could not see him, but knew he was right behind her, watching, judging, savoring.

The next one was a problem. She felt it to be in a long and cylindrical shape, dry and rigid like the previous turd, but much larger in its girth. Big drops of sweat flew down from Claire's forehead and hung at the tip of her nose.

Then the disaster occurred: around its mid point, it was stuck in her and refused to move down any inch further. Her small anus was stretched to its limit, like a perfectly round "O". She was almost spent and would fall backwards any minute, but was suddenly held and supported at her waist by the custodian. One of his big hairy hands then moved further down in front and started playing with her sex. Claire was taken by his advance and soon began to grow another arousal even in this state of degradation.

"Push, whore, push it out!"

Her hands had unknowingly gripped on the custodian's arms as she moaned and sobbed. Her sex was being assaulted by his fingers at a rapid pace, and she had been trained to regularly reach orgasm in a timely manner, so that scarcely two minutes had passed when she came again for the second time tonight, with the turd still in her ass, like a bunny's little tail.

The ensuing involuntary pelvic convulsion helped her past the bottleneck, and the enormous waste started to slide down, and finally emptied out on the floor of the toilet. Her anus was still fully stretched, gaping widely, and enflamed with pain.

"Show it to me! Don't move an inch. Stay open--"

He laid his hands on her buttocks and spread them out. Her dirty shithole was wide open, through which she was ready to be contaminated by all the evils in this world. For a minute or two she was half-squatted, her hands around her knees, hips raised high in the back, waiting for her final verdict. There was a rattling of clothes and belt behind her; then she felt something hot and slimy on her, some landed across her back, some running down her butt cheek, and the rest directly shot into her hole. Strangely, she found his semen rather soothing in that burning tunnel.

"Clean yourself."

Having said that he exited the bathroom door, while Claire remained squatted, naked, her head buried in her knees, her tears streaming down, the same way his dirty semen was now dripping down her tender perineum.

Claire quietly pooped out the rest of her shit, wiped herself, and took a quick shower, where she harshly scrubbed her crotch and cleft. The welts had covered her smooth butt cheeks. They were told to take pride in a marked rear, for such was the proof of their proper education received. She found herself beginning to believe in the ideas taught to her, simply because they brought comfort to her, and made her life here easier.

The custodian had been waiting outside Claire's room and opened the door for her.

Inside, the other girls were enjoying their hard-won respite, and they all lied on their stomachs so to avoid pressing their miserable buttocks against the hard mattress. They were sleeping naked, having cleaned up her mess on the floor with their frocks, which were discarded in the corner, where an unpleasant stench lingered. Through the small window she saw the day had begun to break.

She didn't dare to ask him what he thought of her performance.

Before the door was locked again behind Claire, she heard the custodian say:

"Tomorrow you will skip breakfast and report directly to the headmaster's office."

the door closed.

She shuddered. She wanted to ask what she did wrong, but instead she was struck by a horrifying silence and couldn't utter a word. She climbed up her bed and tried to catch some sleep, but her mind was full of the shameful deed she just partook, and a deep humiliating chagrin filled her heart.

The next morning all girls dined naked at breakfast as their nightgowns were taken to be washed. Other than the three roommates, people were rather surprised that Claire did not show up, but knew well to keep to themselves. Gossips of any kind was strictly forbidden in this school.

The food was good as always, meant to put on some weight on them so they could endure more difficult trainings to come. The girls finished their meal and helped each other put on the day's uniform. It consisted of some outrageous hosiery that scarcely covered their bodies.

Hurry! Time to leave for their lessons - they had such a full schedule!

By the time her friends finished their first deep-throat practice, Claire had been claimed and ravaged by more than twenty men; by the time of supper almost all of the 300 male members of this school had ejaculated inside one of her lovely orifices at least once. The night's carnage was even wilder than what they had done to her in the day.