See Me After Ch. 02: Women's Studies

Edited under the stern instruction of the wonderful shygirlwhore.

As with the first part all characters mentioned are over 18. You should probably read that one first if you want to know the plot.

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Carl shuffled his feet back and forth as he waited outside the classroom door, impatient, nervous and sheepish. Hunched over a few centimetres short of his full height, his anxiety-crossed hands clutched hold of his biceps, unconsciously. Miss Hunt had required him to turn up half an hour later than last time for this Friday's 'instruction'.

While the nervousness and impatience were inspired by his anticipation of what trials this afternoon's session would hold, his sheepishness and anxiety were largely down to the company present: Jodie, his girlfriend, stood leaning meekly in the lee of the corridor wall, slipping an occasional glance toward her phone at any point she did not feel obligated to await his attention. He'd been required to go and fetch her from outside her final class after lessons ended; Miss Hunt's directions on the matter had been quite clear. Jodie had been taken aback by the invitation, confusion evident in her expression, but she was conditioned enough to following Carl's lead by this point in their relationship that she didn't question out loud. They'd walked over in silence, usual for her but a notable departure for him.

He should have told her (or asked her) sooner about tonight's little appointment; it might have helped smooth things over, mainly in his own apprehensive mind. Deciding on taking her somewhere at the last minute was not a new trick of his, of course, but last week's after-school lesson at Miss Hunt's stern hands had caused him to re-think his usual attitudes. The problem was, he had just been too fretful about the conversation it would entail to summon the courage needed to bring it up. Thus, Jodie was in the dark, and the delay had not at all helped with his anxiety.

The classroom door made a sudden click of unlocking; the inside was hidden from the corridor by the drawn blinds over all the windows, so it was a surprise when the door opened to reveal Carl's friend Jack, head hanging and shoulders bowed. Jack did not even try to meet the gaze of the two students in the corridor as he turned instinctively away from them and all but dashed away down the hall.

"Enter!"

The single word emerged loaded with imperiousness from inside the classroom, the speaker unseen but the voice unmistakeable. Carl swallowed, and glanced furtively in his girlfriend's direction; Jodie simply stood, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, waiting for his cue. Feeling a strange weight settle in around him, Carl let his gaze fall to the floor as he crossed the threshold.

Miss Hunt sat in her leather-upholstered desk chair, poised and composed with slender fingers woven together, resting in her lap, and one shapely stockinged leg crossed over the other at the knee. She wore her usual smart, finely-fitted cream silken blouse, buttoned up precisely to the hollow of her throat; the sheer black stockings on her long legs disappeared up beneath a professional, charcoal grey pencil skirt which hugged the contours of her thighs from just above the knee; a pair of simple, severe black high-heeled shoes shod her feet, one flat against the linoleum floor and one dangling from her elevated toes. Her hair was drawn back to neatly surround the top of her head before falling down in a glossy raven-dark ponytail. Her pale features were sculpted into an expression devoid of any emotion, dispassionately neutral while at the same time the stare of her ice-blue eyes was all but sharp enough to cut glass. Carl trudged mutely up toward her desk, not daring to meet that crystal gaze, Jodie a bemused presence tagging along in his wake.

"Miss Carver, a pleasure to see you. Please, sit," the teacher raised a hand to gesture to a single nearby chair that had been set aside at the head of the class, next to her desk.

Carl stayed standing as Jodie looked his way for confirmation, receiving none from the curiously unresponsive boy before crossing silently to take the offered seat. From beneath his downcast brow, Carl considered his girlfriend as she took up her place next to Miss Hunt: although clearly she felt awkward in the strange situation, taking a moment to brush a stray strand of light brown hair away from in front of her hazel eyes, the girl's youthful, lightly freckled face seemed to be turning more to curiosity than uncertainty. She sat in interesting contrast to the teacher beside her, with a demeanour more innocent and delicate and her body shorter but a little more rounded in its femininity. Prompted perhaps by Miss Hunt's proper, striking pose, she straightened up and let her own hands gather in her lap as she awaited further development.

Miss Hunt smiled at the girl with every appearance of warmth and encouragement, ignoring Carl completely where he stood for several long moments. Then, assured that her guest was comfortable, she at last turned to consider him in his embarrassment.

"I am glad to see you have followed your instructions, boy. Now go and lock the door, and return here for your next task. Miss Carver, I hope you will find this afternoon's session to be enlightening..."

Carl could tell he had been dismissed and turned, ears burning too hot to continue listening to the conversation he knew instinctively was not for him to hear; he went to do as he was told. The click of the key in the door for the second time brought back a whirl of memories and sensations as now he found himself locked in once more with Miss Hunt. His Mistress. He could only imagine what Jodie might make of what was to come, while he shuffled back to the head of the classroom. Miss Hunt again took a few unhurried seconds to finish her discussion with his girlfriend before returning her attention to him.

"I have explained to Miss Carver that we shall be continuing your lessons in proper disciplining and respect, boy. She will be aiding me in this; as she will also be Mistress to you going forward, you will address her as such according to her direction. Do you understand?"

The answer to that was easy, although the implications would be challenging:

"Y-yes Mistress. Mistresses..."

Had his vision been raised high enough, he might have seen Jodie's eyes widen further; in all their time of knowing each other, she had never known Carl to show such quiet deference. She didn't know quite what to make of it, yet.

"Good. Now strip, then prostrate yourself on your knees before us."

As much as Carl's ears had burned over the conversation which had passed between his teacher and his girlfriend, now his cheeks burned more. Indeed, they blossomed into a full flush of crimson as his pulse began to race, but he didn't even think of delaying let alone disobeying. Last week's instruction was flooding back in force. He did his best with suddenly nerveless fingers to fumble open buttons, flies and laces, tugging off each unfastened garment in turn; he was acutely conscious in a small and closed off part of his mind that this would be only the second time Jodie had seen him naked, after their first clumsy exploration of penetration a few weeks before; this time, the reluctance was all on his side. He was mildly shocked to see her watching him with a frank, steady stare as he revealed his body. He felt defenceless as he exposed himself completely before them. A single shiver went up his spine as he stood naked for a heartbeat, before bending to his knees and leaning forward to press his upper body and face to the classroom floor.

He thought he heard a soft intake of breath, astonishment perhaps, but whether at his actions or the level of his swift and unthinking obedience was unclear. Possibly it was the sight of the pair of apparently quite plain, light blue cotton knickers that had been the last thing he removed, sat on the top of the discarded clothing pile. It was followed almost immediately by sounds of the sharp, precise clicks of high heels against the smooth classroom floor. Miss Hunt approached his recumbent form, but he dared not look up to watch.

"Do you see, Miss Carver? His instruction has rendered him much more compliant. Now, I will show you how we shall humble him further."

The term sent a thrill of ice through Carl's nerves, and he felt goosebumps rise all over his exposed body. The hairs on the back of his neck quivered, but he made no move to escape what was coming.

"See, now that has gotten his attention!" Miss Hunt spoke with an encouraging triumphance, her words almost warm, which was why he knew they were not for his benefit, "Put your hands behind your back, boy, and spread those legs further apart."

He gathered his hands together at the base of his spine, his pulse now pounding in his eardrums almost loud enough to mask the noise of cold metal bracelets closing around each wrist in turn. With his weight now borne fully on his shins and shoulders, to say nothing of his cheek crushed against the lino, he would have great difficulty rising from his supine position again unaided. Still, doing what he was told he shuffled his knees a little wider. There was a sudden, single, sharp swat of pain across the meat of his right buttock; Miss Hunt must have brought the foot-long ruler with her from her desk; and he hurriedly stretched his legs open some more.

"Please join me, Miss Carver; I should like you to see exactly how this procedure is performed."

Carl's mind spun as the nervous tension within him spiked, his breath running ragged through parted lips as he awaited his humbling. It didn't take long to arrive: the same deft motions against his tender nether parts; the same pressure of the two rigid cross-pieces against the backs of his thighs and the throat of his scrotum; the same snap of the dexterously-woven rubber band. He made sure to squeeze his legs back together again at just the right moment. Although he was in a more forgiving position this time and knew better what to expect, his yelp was still shrill and louder this time for not being stifled behind a gag. Tears sprang to the corners of his eyes, and he kept his head down while trying to move as little as possible; right now, he did not want to draw any more attention to himself than was strictly necessary. His testicles, imprisoned now by the pens lying against the seat of his thighs, assumed an immediate swollen and throbbing importance in his consciousness as the humbler bit in.

"And so, there we are; it would now be extremely painful for him to try and straighten from that crouch. As you can see, a thoroughly effective measure for encouraging a fitting level of acquiescence. Boy, do not move; now Miss Carver, we can continue our discussion."

The clacking heels receded, with Jodie's softer footfalls echoing alongside them. Through his swimming vision Carl could just about see the ladies' feet as they resumed their seating, Miss Hunt taking the opportunity to slip out of her heels and push them aside.

"So tell me, my dear, would you like to learn more about keeping this errant boy of yours in line?"

There was a pause, but when Jodie's voice emerged from the silence it held an undeniable edge of conviction:

"Yes, Miss Hunt."

"Jodie, we are not in class now. At any time outside of school hours, please call me Sonia; I would be delighted for us to become better acquainted with each other as we continue with Mr. Simmons' instruction. On the subject of which, if you will excuse me for a moment..."

Carl froze in the act of shifting his hips a fraction, trying to re-seat the humbler in a slightly more comfortable position. He knew from her sudden sharpened tone that Miss Hunt had spotted his squirming but nevertheless he tried to make as if nothing had happened, clamping his thighs tighter together as if it might indicate obedient stillness after the fact. There was no ominous sound of clicking heels this time as the teacher strode towards him in her stockinged feet, but he squeezed his eyes shut in mounting dread all the same. She disappeared behind him in the direction of his up-thrust rear end; passing beyond the tiniest slit he opened at the corner of his eye in a desperate attempt to track her progress. Thus the blow, when it was delivered with the tip of the plastic ruler she carried, still caught him by surprise; it landed directly across one of his dangling balls, driving it back against the tight embrace of the humbler. The sound that Carl made in response was an undignified mix of gasp, sob and squeal. As Miss Hunt returned to her seat and the conversation with Jodie, he could only hunch silently and still as he attempted to absorb the sting and the humiliation.

Worried perhaps further by the thought that she might give Jodie responsibility for the next swat, Carl made sure to need no more correction as their conversation continued. He heard little enough of it, between the aching complaints from his abused undercarriage and the alternate dull ringing and pulse-pounding which occupied his hearing. It came as something of a surprise therefore, when both women rose to their feet; his line of sight again did not extend far above their ankles as they stalked toward him. The surprise was lost in relief a few moments later as he was finally released from the humbler's merciless grasp; it barely registered that Miss Hunt's feet in their nylon stockings were still in front of him while Jodie's trainers were no longer in sight. An unseen hand reached down to lift his arms using the expedient handhold of the chain linking his wrists.

"On your feet again, boy. Your new Mistress is to continue your instruction personally, under my supervision. Now, bend over my desk and assume the correct position."

There was a small shove of encouragement from Jodie behind him as she let loose her grip on the handcuff chain; propelled in the right direction, Carl continued to shuffle forward to the edge of Miss Hunt's desk before leaning down at the waist and letting his chest and belly rest flat across its top. That done, without further prompting he edged his feet wider until they were more than shoulder-length apart, lowered his face to rest against the desk's surface on the opposite cheek to that which had become practically welded to the floor earlier, and tried not to panic about what was in store. The last was made infinitely harder by the quiet scrape of Miss Hunt's metre-long wooden ruler being lifted from its resting place against the blackboard, and the subtle swish it made as the teacher handed it across his bent-over form to his girlfriend, waiting behind him.

"Remember Jodie, you don't want to cause more discomfort than is strictly necessary to drive the lesson home. A dozen strokes, and take your time to get them just right; please don't feel any need to rush, you are the one in charge here now."

"Thanks, Sonia!"

It sounded as though she was warming quickly to the situation, positively excited by it in fact. In the privacy of his own thoughts Carl could just about admit that he might not have given his girlfriend as much of his attention as perhaps she'd deserved throughout their relationship; she'd never complained, exactly, and they'd slipped into the routine easily enough that he hadn't questioned. He wondered if that would be coming back to haunt him now.

There was quite a long pause before the first stroke: Jodie was evidently taking her new responsibility very seriously indeed; when it landed, the swipe scored its way right across the soft flesh of the bottoms of his buttocks. Gazing sidelong, Carl could see Miss Hunt smiling indulgently as she stood observing, her arms crossed lightly across the tight bosom of her blouse. Here eyes were not on him, save for a single sly wink just before the blow fell. Now she was ranged in however, Jodie took considerably less time to release her second; acid fire seared across his rump. Carl tried not to cry out as the subsequent strikes landed, gritting his teeth and doing the best to catch any plaintive moans behind them; Jodie was not so merciful as to deliver each lash hot on the heels of its predecessor however and continued to measure each one carefully, always finding a slightly different place for it to land. By the twelfth and last stroke Carl was panting and mewling pathetically, finding himself longing for the dubious comforts of the ball-gag which had stifled his protests on the occasion of his last caning.

As if compelled by some psychic suggestion as the notion crossed his mind, Miss Hunt walked around her desk to take something out of the drawer and deposit it on the desktop in front of him: the very same round rubber ball attached to its leather straps. As the throbbing roar faded with reluctance from his hindquarters, Carl tilted his head timidly upward, although he was not presumptuous enough to raise his sight any higher than her jaw.

"Open wide, boy."

She gagged him in a swift, perfunctory manner, all business and brutality. Too wearied from his treatment to object much, he let his chin drop to plant itself flat on the desk's surface and stared woodenly ahead at the wall in front.

The teacher circled away out of his sight, to join his girlfriend behind his bent-over rear; Miss Hunt's tone softened as she continued, evidently addressing her words away from him from this point, "Jodie my dear, please don't answer if you are not comfortable doing so, but I wish to ask: have you allowed him to enter you, before now?"

There was another lengthy pause before the reply, in a somewhat subdued tone:

"Yes mi- Sonia. We tried it once, a few weeks ago."

"And did you enjoy it? Did he treat you with care and respect?"

"I..."

Carl realised he had not reached the deepest levels of mortification possible before now. Even with all his treatment thus far, he had not previously gotten to the stage where he simply wanted to melt into a crack in the floor and be swallowed up rather than continue to endure the situation. The realisation hit him now with a weight of force far in excess of any physical blow he'd suffered, as he heard the hesitance of quiet doubt colour his girlfriend's voice.

"It was a bit embarrassing; and uncomfortable to start with. But, I was beginning to enjoy it..."

Jodie let the sentence hang adrift, damning him through the unspoken implication. He heard sounds of movement from behind, imagined Miss Hunt moving comfortingly closer to the younger woman even as he failed to pluck up the courage to turn his head.

"I am sorry to hear that, my dear; I think it's well past time he began to make it up to you," her tone hardened as he felt its intent fall back squarely between his prone shoulder blades, "now boy, Miss Carver will be continuing your fundamental instruction in the corrective applications of penetration. It seems even more to me now that it is a lesson you require keenly. Reach back to your buttocks now, and spread yourself wide open in preparation."

Carl felt himself freeze in place again, remembering the last lesson in this subject which had been given to him. His recently-instilled obedience warred with the paralysis for a moment while his heart thudded in his throat at the prospect of more of the same, and eventually he managed to break the deadlock and stretch his arms to take a sore, tenderised cheek in each hand. He wasn't quite quick enough to avoid a vicious corrective flick to one of his hanging testicles, however; at least the scream was strangled by the bulging bulk of his gag.

He knew the sounds to listen out for now: a puffy squeezing; a sloppy squirting; followed by soft squelches of rhythmic kneading along a sizeable length. He just wasn't expecting what came next:

"Put your left foot in that loop, my dear. That's right; and now the other goes in there. Let us draw it up- over your hips, there we are; and then if I tighten the buckle... Now, does that feel secure?"