The Lemurian Package Pt. 02

"Copies of the media all display the same behavior--until now, all the copies of the video record show nothing at all in the container at any point."

Dr. Richards: "It vanished from the--from the video?? How is that possible?"

Ms. Amelia: "We don't know. Some effect throughout the archive. If we have a chance to repeat the experiment, I want to try with non-digital recording."

They turned their attention to Gwen. She was acutely aware that her performance here would go straight to her father. He was a strict disciplinarian and the way things were currently developing, any perceived failure on her part might be met with an extremely strict punishment.

She adjusted her posture.

"The Lemurian Societal Shift is prevalent and accelerating," she reported. "It's... far faster and more pervasive than I expected. I thought that being aware of it would shield me more than it has--I find myself having a difficult time sorting the irregular social interactions from the normal ones."

She swallowed. "It's also--" she trailed off. "Kind of... getting strange?" she was a bit uneasy about the next part. The vanishing of the three mummified cephalopods from the sorority house's basement security room was hugely troubling--but that wasn't exactly her concern. The room had been repurposed and reinforced to be a secure storage facility by the US Government. It had failed spectacularly--but her reports on social changes were HER responsibility.

The call members leaned in.

"Okay," she said, finding herself nervous at their increased attention. "I'm not--I'm not a hundred percent sure--but we have--in the common room, we have a couple of big posters of... 1940s and 50s ads--classic advertisements in American magazines?" she looked at them.

"One of them shows a man spanking his wife--an ad from the 50's, I guess? For not buying the right coffee or something?" she felt herself blushing. "I didn't--I don't remember paying much attention to it before." She paused, swallowed.

"I mean, we had some framed vintage ads. Funny ones from that era. But now--we have three up and they're all... well, not Lemurian, I'm not saying that--just--I don't remember them being so... " she searched for a word, "retrograde?"

She swallowed. The truth was, she didn't remember them at all. Classic ad posters framed. But not one showing a man clearly spanking his appalled wife. Not one showing a tiger-skin rug with a girl's head, a man's foot resting atop it. One showing a submissive wife serving her smug husband breakfast in bed--on her knees.

Had they really been like that? She had searched for pictures of the common room from several months back, but thus far had not come back with much. In honesty, she was afraid she'd see those same posters in them--from before the thing arrived.

The three were not overly impressed with her report.

"Does anyone not directly involved seem aware of the shifts?" Asked Ms. Amelia.

She was ready with that. "At the house--no. We've all been adjusted. I am however, tracking someone unrelated. An Evan Wascomb--Junior, Anthropology." This drew looks from the three at each other.

Dr. Richards said "I don't have an Evan on staff. If he's aware of the shift, it shouldn't be because he's part of Lemurian Studies."

"What makes you think this Evan is aware of the shift?" asked Col Frostings

Gwen nodded. "We put some triggers in the school computers. He's been searching on--" she paused, checking. "Public punishment, public humiliation, crime in the past 24 hours, 48 hours, 96 hours."

"Some more long-term stuff. And searches on Lemurian artifacts--including looking at the Los Angeles Port."

That, it seemed, was convincing.

"Dr. Richards, do you think you can interview him and see if you can determine what he perceives? Also track his whereabouts since the arrival of the package?" Ms. Amelia asked

Richards considered. "I... can. But that'll open a can of worms, depending on how he reacts. If we think he's an anomaly, I don't want to alarm him and have him start a public campaign of trying to 'wake people up.'"

"He's a Junior in Anthropology--Gwen, can you make contact and see what he understands?" Asked the Colonel.

Now she shifted from an entirely different encounter. "Yes, ma'am," she said--not at all sure she wanted this kind of 'field assignment.' She was just a college girl! This was far beyond anything she ought to be doing! What if he was dangerous?

Col. Frosting nodded. "Dr. Richards, please see to it that we have over-watch for her--security if needs be. I don't expect a 'meet-cute' to be dangerous, but we just don't know."

Dr. Richards didn't look any happier with the plan. But Ms. Amelia agreed that they could not get an asset there rapidly enough. It was decided.

The call over, Gwen felt tense and nasty and while not DIRTY, exactly, the green chastity encasement made her feel like she was wearing soiled panties even when it was completely fresh (which, to be fair, it always was--it just didn't seem to accrue any kind of mess). She yearned, badly, to get it off and address her miserable aroused need. She couldn't though--asking for relief would just get her in trouble.

She drew her knees up and looked at her phone: there were freshmen pledges that she could punish. That would make her feel a little better! She got up and checked herself in the mirror before walking out.

In the room, behind her, something moved or slithered under the comforter covering the bed. It slipped over the edge of the bed, moving like a gelatinous lump. When it ought to have hit the floor, instead of there being a thump or a splat there was a soft sucking sound.

The high-tech electronics designed to monitor the room detected absolutely nothing at all.

Hamilton College - Student Disciplinary Council - Angela

According to the Hamilton University charter, the Student Disciplinary Committee was made up of two members of faculty and five students one of whom, the SDC Student-Chair was elected by the student body. Their stated job was to handle minor infractions and to advise the faculty on more serious matters.

Angela Nelson, SDC Chair, elected with the power of the Greek contingent on campus as she was a leader in the prestigious Alpha Delta Rho sorority had found it slightly tiresome but a general "good deed" to provide input and guidance to younger students. While she didn't have much tolerance for rule breakers, she did find aiding in the reform or lesson-learning process to be a worthy use of her time.

Today, though, when Melissa hauled a wretched girl in before them, she was immediately struck with a sense of maternal protectiveness! The mousey girl looked chagrined, drenched in shame, and horrified to be brought before the committee's morning meeting. Recently, with the uptick in disciplinary referrals for minor breaches (disruptions in class, back-talk to instructors, masturbation in the schools bathroom stalls, and so on) they had been meeting daily.

The Council was taking a break and Angela was alone in the meeting room, a laptop open, her essay being proofed before submission. She glanced at the time: the Committee was going to be back in about ten minutes. She looked at her sorority sister.

"What?" she asked. Slight alarm at Melissa barging in like this with the waif in tow. "What happened?"

"Angie--sorry. This one is...", she searched for the word "she got in trouble for day-dreaming in class--in Literary Analysis. I--sorry, I brought her here because I don't think she's in good condition to just go out around campus in this state."

Angela leaned in slightly, looking at the girl with her head bowed. If she was one of the sorority pledges, Angela would have sent her straight back to the house to be placed under the care of a senior sister. She looked awfully embarrassed and ashamed to be here.

Angela could see immediately that Mellisa was right: the girl, if left to herself, was going to spiral into a puddle of badly considered actions--she shouldn't be left alone like this. She got up and came around the desk to the girl. Angela made her voice more gentle. Up close, she could smell a sweet and sweaty smell--a cross between normal vaginal discharge and body odor. She was certain the girl was having issues down there. The girl looked meek and red-faced.

Angela carefully took the girl's arms.

"What happened, hon?" she asked.

The girl sniffled. "I--I was just distracted in class."

"Why?" Angela asked carefully. "It's okay--you can tell me. I'm ordering you to."

"MyBoyfriendSpankedMeLastNight," she said in one long run-on word. "H-he had a neighbor put a diaper on me so I wouldn't masturbate," she said, voice quivering.

"ICan'tStopThinkingAboutIt," she moaned.

Angela stroked her hair. A nod to Michelle: You were right to bring her here.

"What's your name?" Angela asked.

"Tessa."

"Okay, Tessa--did you shower this morning?"

The girl nodded wretchedly.

"Did you wash down there? Because I can smell you through your skirt," Angela said as gently as possible.

The girl nodded, even more embarrassed.

"Okay, Tess," Angela said. "We'll take care of you. Go sit down there--you can sit?"

She sniffed and nodded. As Tessa made her way to the chair, Melissa gave Angela a horribly guilty look.

Angela gave her sister a look. "What?" she demanded.

Melissa reluctantly drew out a yellow slip of paper: a Disciplinary Committee referral.

"Mr. Kaster asked her a couple of times to pay attention--but she sure wasn't. She, uh, she was really squirming around. He said she was distracting the class."

Melissa reluctantly handed the referral over. Angela shot a glance at the girl. A referral meant punishment. She looked at the paper. SEE TO IT SHE GETS WHAT SHE NEEDS, the professor had written.

Well, that was better than having to run the poor girl through the wringer--but it also meant the girl couldn't just be sent home. Plus, she suspected from the strength of the odor, the girl would be nastily at herself. She looked over at Tessa.

"Okay--can you give us an hour and once the Committee has reviewed her referral, take her back to the house and see if you can look after her until we can get her boyfriend or someone?"

Melissa nodded. "I'll do it. The girls will love her."

Angela smiled.

Professor Halloway was one of six instructors or university staff that rotated on the committee. She had volunteered to take extra sessions in the last week or so, providing a much feared presence on the board.

Now, minutes later, she sat behind the wide table where the council sat to hear student appeals and dispense judgment. Angela didn't really like seeing the girl--Tessa--have to stand there alone, looking miserable while Professor Halloway questioned and, well, toyed with her--like a cat playing with a caught sparrow.

"We have student handbook standards concerning hygiene, dear," Halloway said. Her tone WAS kindly--but the mousey student flinched and gasped in horror.

"I'mSorryMa'am."

Not as sorry as you're going to be, thought Angela.

"Please take them down to your knees," Professor Halloway said, her voice coaxing.

The girl moaned. Angela was afraid Tessa was going to fight the faculty member on this--and get herself in deep trouble--but she did as she was told, breath hitching, taking the panties down to her knees. The gusset was visibly soaked, even from this distance. The odor was palpable.

Professor Halloway nodded: she'd seen what she expected to. "That's as far up as they go, hon. Those panties are a loss." The girl whimpered. "Your boyfriend is right to use diapers at night. I'm not going to order them for you during the day--but you ARE going to use incontinence pads--and have them changed regularly."

Tessa let out a little moan as Angela made a note.

"Angie," Professor Halloway looked over, both amused and triumphant, "could you task one of your sisters to inspect her daily--say at 10:30--to see how her hygiene is doing and change out the pads?"

Angela didn't like being called Angie and Professor Halloway knew it. They'd had an 'intimate discussion' a couple of weeks ago and Ms. Halloway had FIRMLY established that she was in charge. Angela had been uncomfortable for days after that.

"Also," said Professor Halloway, "please have whoever is doing the inspection save the pads them--if her condition isn't improving, I want to be able to track her arousal response." Angela made another note. Having one of the sisters keep a parade of her used pads would be unbearable--that was likely the professor's goal.

The girl stood there, hands tucked behind her back, red-faced, sniffling, her panties at half mast.

"Now," said the professor, warming to the task, "are you and your boyfriend sexually active?"

Ugh! Angela blushed for the girl. The dramas of Professor Halloway or the council in general assigning discipline, watching the subject squirm or sob was usually well, hot, amusing, and entertaining. This dressing down looked like more than the poor girl could take! Angela thought she was on the ragged edge of collapse.

"Yes, miss," she said softly.

"Vaginal sex?" Pressed Ms. Halloway carefully.

The girl unhappily nodded.

"What about oral?" Ms. Halloway's voice was actually kindly in tone, Angela had a growing sense that rather than pouncing on the poor thing, Ms. Halloway was actually working with masterful skill to keep her prey utterly wretched without breaking her. The girl clearly couldn't take even a gentle scolding right now.

Tessa nodded.

"And he looks after you? Punishes you when you require it? Makes sure you're taken care of?"

Again the girl nodded. "He's... he looks after me. He spanks me when--when I need it."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ms. Halloway said warmly. "You'll give his contact information to the Committee so they can work with him as necessary."

"Please don't tell him," she begged softly.

Big mistake, Angela thought, feeling sorry for the girl.

"Mmm--" Professor Halloway savored the girl's pleading look. It was delicious. "I think we will inform him directly--also your parents. Your mother ought know, don't you think?"

The girl's eyes filled with tears. "No!" she begged. "Please!"

"I don't think we can avoid telling your boyfriend," considered Professor Halloway, looking at the cringing, begging girl. "But maybe--MAYBE--we can avoid calling home--IF you are willing to cooperate in some additional discipline..."

Tessa actually dropped to her knees to beg. Next to Angela, Geoff was furiously hard in his jeans--clearly tenting them under the desk. She knew better than to think Professor Halloway missed that. He'd get an underwear inspection and, if he was lucky, only a good, long spanking,

Angela made herself hold still. Squirming could draw Ms. Halloway's attention to HER--and she couldn't stand it any more than poor Tessa could--but watching the girl beg, she was soaked.

Begging was all Ms. Halloway really wanted. The threat to call the girl's parents was unnecessary: she wanted the girl miserably obedient--not blow up her familial relationships. The boyfriend, though, sounded like a good factor in the girl's life--and, it seemed, a willing partner in taking care of her. He was definitely getting informed and Tessa was going to have quite a 'circle of care.'

"I want you to disrobe, Tessa," said Ms Halloway, with a soft purr. "If we aren't going to call Mom and Dad, I want to ensure you're properly chastised here."

The girl's eyes bulged and Angela saw tears start to leak wholesale as she undressed. She wasn't the first student to be nude before the committee. In the past days, more than a few unlucky young adults found themselves disrobed, mortified, and sobbing--even before their assigned punishment was carried out!

She was pleased that the girl took everything off and surprised to see how good a job she had done denuding herself. Her sex was soft, hairless, slightly stained looking from the intense moisture it had sat in. It was swollen and 'ready.'

Tessa knew better than to cover her shame and, wearing only socks, sobbed into her hands. Professor Halloway didn't demand she uncover her face, as she sometimes did.

"You're leaking down your thighs, Tessa," the Professor pointed out with a little sigh. The girl, kneeling, naked, her skin seeming to glow with inviting blush, sobbed harder into her hands. "I want you cleaned up, a pad put in, and given a chance to rest," Halloway said. "But first, I want to have a little discipline to make sure you're in the learning-frame of mind."

She turned to Angela. "Angie, can you take her to the studio and put her on one of the wedge-seats for a thirty-minute sit? Also, give her bottom a light coating of the urushiol oil. She'll be eager for a spanking after that. The girls can provide one, I'm sure."

"You can put your hands on your head, dear," the professor said to the whimpering girl. "Or cross them over your tummy--but you're not to cover up, understand?"

"Yes, miss," came the quiet reply.

Angela got up before one of the boys decided to take charge of the girl.

"Follow me," she said archly, and turned on her heel, walking to the punishment room. The girl shuffled in, trying to walk quickly while keeping her thighs together. The room was a converted small gym. It had big floor to ceiling glass walls on two sides. The view was shaded. In truth, the windows were coated with a reflective sheen that made people outside unable to see in well--but for the subjects on the inside in a state of undress, it created the sense of terrifying exposure.

"Over here, Tess. It's only half an hour. It won't be pleasant but you'll be fine."

In addition to several padded benches and 'horses' and other restraint objects, there was a wall rack of implements: paddles, lashes, a couple of tawse, a rubbery slipper-like slapper. Even a wooden spoon. Angela went to the triangular "wedge-seat."

Based on the Spanish Donkey, the punishment horse was a wooden triangular prism, with smooth curved corners. She touched the panel that lifted it slightly: the subject's feet were to dangle, her weight on her sex.

"Climb up and I'll start the timer," she said. When Tessa looked in horror at the windows, and didn't move, Angela barked "Get up here, brat!"

Sobbing, Tessa did. She awkwardly got on, her thighs laying against the sloped side of the thing. The top edge--the wedge--was smooth and not pointed. It wasn't instantly painful--but it would be uncomfortable soon! And she was naked! Ohhh!

Angela didn't start the timer right away: she retrieved a plastic "board" about a yard long with cuffs on either end and a padded hole in the center that she slipped over Tessa's head.

"Give me your arm, hon," she coaxed. When Tessa raised it, she used the strap to hold her wrist at neck level. After she did the other one, she stroked the sobby girl's bare back. She felt a shudder. She could feel the shudder at the light caress.

The smell of her arousal was intense. She could see Tessa's erect nipples jutting out. The swelling in her sex--and its leaking wetness--showed just how powerfully turned on she was. Her breath hitched, and Angela wanted to give her a hug,

"They can't see in, honey," she whispered into the girl's hair.

A louder sob. She rubbed Tessa's shoulders. That drew little moans and sobs. She shifted: the wedge on her sex was already starting to feel unpleasant.

"Don't fall off, honey. Even if it's very uncomfortable, you have to stay on. If you fall off you'll spend all day in here in punishment."

Wretchedly, the girl nodded.

Angela squatted and affixed cuffs with small chains to each ankle. The chains ran down to the floor to hinder side to side motion. The punishment wedge was to be fixed on the subject's sex.

She patted Tessa's bottom.