Zoom Punishment Pt. 08

Unable to close her legs--but desperate to, she squatted before the class, moaning.

The teacher ordered her there for an interminable five minutes of thick sobs and moans, the humiliation and degradation of sitting in the rubber sealed puddle of her own pee was magnified by the translucency of the rubber--everyone could see it.

When the teacher undid the hips and the urine splashed down into the basin, leaving her naked, she moaned and was walked bowlegged, and still wet, to the hall where, towards the end of it, colorful plastic slides waited.

"Down you go," said the teacher. "Those lead to the final level. You'll get a very sound spanking there--but then you'll be released. You did fine," she added.

Tala wasn't sure how she was glad to hear she'd somehow 'done fine', but she was. It added insult to injury that the teacher gently helped her onto the slide and she felt herself drop down the smooth, soft plastic.

THE SPANKING FACTORY -- VICKY

Vicky had huddled naked on the conveyor belt as it trundled her around the corner. She was surprised to find that it split off in several ways--but a moving gate shuttled her down one of the paths. Signs made it clear that any motion to get off the belt or slow things would be met with many additional punishments.

Stick figures emitted tear-drops over the laps of other stick figures, showing how recalcitrant girls would be handled in here.

The belt led through a couple of interchanges that all seemed to be set to send her down a long corridor. It passed through a square hole in the concrete and she was shocked when a gate slid shut behind her. This track was one way.

She was naked--her widget--now she felt even more naked without it. Still, as the conveyor drew her further and further into the mountain, she felt a rising unease.

She knew what was going on around her: her widget had an "intrusion package" installed on it. Inside the area, on the local network, it was supposed to be able to compromise the network and do whatever it did--presumably return information to her handler containing data on whatever was behind Tersnia's amazing technical and economic accomplishments.

Sumi had said that whatever the "intrusion package" was, if it was able to penetrate their network--even here--even with the widget hooked up to the factory's electronics--if it had any chance of working it would be an unbelievably sophisticated piece of engineering on the part of America. The core technology Tersnia used as its foundations was far in advance of what was commonly seen, even in the city's center.

Sumi had thought that if the intrusion package failed on contact, she would be quickly reunited with Sumi as her current peer-caretaker--'owner' in the Islander language.

That didn't seem to be happening. She remained on the conveyor belt--cool under her buttocks. It moved along, now rapid and seemingly rushing, the concrete walls tight on either side. There were dim lights at regular intervals--but now she felt like she had traveled far past the outer walls of the Factory.

Where was she now? Somewhere in the bowels of the volcano? Did the conveyor lead to a chasm over an ancient lava pit?

Ahead was a light--not a red lava light--but a more ordinary interior fluorescent one. She retracted her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins and hugging. There were sounds above the regular sounds of the conveyor system but she couldn't place them.

The conveyor came to an end, spitting her out onto oiled rollers in a green painted room. Off the belt were machines--computer systems, she thought--but unlike systems she'd seen before. They were square columns 14 feet tall, extending from the floor to the ceiling and appearing to be made of a slightly rusted yellow metal.

They looked old in a way that was unsettling. There were bulging computer screens like she remembered from pictures taken in the 1980's. On the metal surfaces were grids of insight lights, some flickering, some steady--and what looked like ports for connectors she didn't recognize.

The sounds were associated with clicks of the solid-state electronic switches, a hum that she associated with old radios, a whirr of--of tape drives? And muted tones that seemed generated when certain lights came on.

The room wasn't cold--but it was cool. She uneasily slid her foot off the roller-belt and down to the floor. It felt slightly gritty under her feet. She was glad there weren't people here--but being alone didn't feel good either.

"APPROACH THE TERMINAL" the voice was almost without question electronic in origin. It came out of ancient looking speakers embedded in one of the pillars. The 'terminal' was an ancient CRT with amber letters on it. It was clearly meant for her, since it was flashing APPROACH in big letters composed of ASCII art.

An old-style camera-lens gleamed next to it--this was how they were tracking her.

"Who--" she started.

"APPROACH THE TERMINAL"

The voice's pitch warbled slightly and had hard edges and electric tones to it. It sounded like a robot's voice on a 1950's science fiction program.

"FASTER, NIXLI," it crackled. She picked up the pace. She knew that the common Tersnian term 'nene' meant something like 'little girl'--what did 'NIXLI' mean?

She stood in front of the terminal and she listened to a harsh machine-gun rasping like the sound of an old dot-matrix printer. Numbers and words she didn't recognize scrolled up the screen too quickly for her to make out.

"ANALYSIS COMPLETE, NIXLI. MOVE TO THE INTAKE PORT FOR BEHAVIORAL-SOCIAL IMPROVEMENT."

To her right, against the wall, a white plastic sheet had snapped up revealing a brightly lit alcove full of brilliant fluorescent lights, white plastic, and white padding that looked inflated--like on a bounce house."

She moved uncertainly towards it. Inside the alcove was a grate floor and at the back, a white plastic wall on which a panel on the white rear wall lit up showing a figure standing in the alcove and bending over the white padding. From the curves on the figure it was clear the subject's buttocks were pushed out.

Ugh.

"ASSUME THE POSITION." The interior lights came on, flickering before coming fully lit. Ugh. The padding was firm under her belly. She grit her teeth and pushed her buttocks out. What WAS this place. Behind her, the plastic shield slammed shut with a faint 'wwwwwshhh!' sound. She jumped but when she tried to straighten in surprise, she felt a pressure on the small of her back. It didn't so much "hold her down" as create pressure that resulted in her remaining more or less in place.

CLICK--WHRNNN.

The mechanical sound was joined with the feeling of the alcove she was in, rotating. She craned her head over her shoulder, feeling even more intensely naked as the alcove seemed to rotate like it was on a carousel.

WHSSSHCK! The plastic shield snapped up.

She could see a white room. It was, she thought, like something out of a science fiction movie--white plastic and rounded corners. There were more of the bulging CRT screens and what looked like a dentist chair or gynecological exam table.

There were also floor-to-ceiling glass tubes that looked to her like they were filled with some kind of blue fluid. Instead of being gleaming and clean, though, it looked smudged and dirty.

"WELKOMEN NIXLI," an electronic-sounding female voice said. "IT SEEMS WE NEED A MORE THOROUGH EVALUATION OF YOUR LEVEL OF CULTURAL CONTAMINATION AND DOMINANCE ELEVATISTIC LEVELS. I AM SUMMONING BIOMID ASSISTANCE. IN THE INTERIM I WILL BEGIN THE EXAMINATION. PLEASE SPREAD YOUR FEET FURTHER APART."

It was clearly some kind of AI--she got that--but the AIs she'd encountered had always communicated in perfect English. This was... different. There were odd language choices, some words she wasn't sure of, and the voice itself sounded a bit... raspy--like a faint electronic hiss.

A unit on a mechanical arm--it looked like the positionable X-ray unit dentists used, had swiveled over to point its cylindrical tube at her buttocks.

"WHEN YOU ARE READY TO RECEIVE PUNISHMENT, YOU MAY BREAK POSITION AND ADDRESS THE DISCOMFORT," said the voice. "THE LONGER YOU REMAIN IN POSITION, THE LESS SEVERE THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE."

What? What did--OH!

The sudden gripping sensation of a nearly unbearable itch centered on her anus--but also dancing horribly on her buttocks, erupted. She gasped! Vicky's hands gripped the padded surface and her legs danced. She tried to shift her buttocks away from the device which seemed to be 'beaming out' the devilish itch--but she couldn't escape it.

A wet moan, and her hands flew back and grasped her buttocks. Thankfully the horrible sensation ended as abruptly as it had begun before she could score her flesh with scratching. She panted. Ohh--ohh--uhhh---

"EXVAL COMPLETE. PLEASE MOVE TO THE SEKTON TWO BED."

A light blinked above the gynecological bed. Shuddering, Vicky walked, tentatively across the floor, her hands still covering her buttocks. The device on a track and adjustable arm, followed her.

"POSITION YOURSELF FOR EXVALUATION. PLACE YOUR FEET IN THE CONTAINMENT STIRRUPS."

Vicky looked with dismay at the dental style bed with wide stirrups. She glared at the arm with the 'camera' thing on it and looked around. The room continued on to a heavy looking industrial door. She doubted she could escape this just by running.

She climbed on. She forced herself to exhale and spread her feet. At least no one else--no one human--was here to see this.

"PLACE YOUR HANDS IN THE IMPROPER POSITION." A screen overhead showed a cartoon image of a girl's area with her fingers covering her vulva, one of her fingers lay on the image of her clitoris.

Did it really want her to--to put her hands there. The image flashed, impatiently, she thought, and she slid her hands down until they lay over her sex. It felt tender and warm... and moist. Ugh.

"WHEN YOU ARE READY FOR CONSEQUENCES," said the voice, "MASTURBATE TO ORGASM."

She flushed, horribly. What??

The overhead screen flickered, images changing rapidly.

"KEEP YOUR FOCUS ON THE VISUAL STIMULUS." Patterns shifted--flesh colors--what she was pretty sure was genitals and buttocks. An image resolved, in phases, first a splash of colors, then taking shapes--a yellowish carpet.

Something that looked like a big office copier. Desks--an office--not a modern one either--like--like something out of the 1950's.

Women in dresses with old-fashioned hair sat at their desks, working on typewriter-like machines. She could see that they wore collars around their necks. At one station, the girl stood. Her desk height had been adjusted so she could work on the device without sitting. The back of her skirts were pinned up, showing a bright pink bottom, bare--and on display to the entire office.

Vicky could see her squirming, blushing badly as young men in suits and ties walked by behind her, smirking as their eyes moved to her backside.Vicky's finger stroked her clit, ghosting over it--as the camera moved to show the girl's feet.

She was wearing high heels with padlocks on them and her ankles were cuffed apart with a spreader bar that lay loosely connected to the ankle restraints so she could walk by shuffling her feet but couldn't close her thighs. The camera moved closer: someone had applied pink lip-gloss to her labia.

Vicky wrinkled her nose--but--ohh--there was something--a great deal, really--about this--her finger stroked gently.

Smack! A female hand gave the girl a light spank on her buttocks and she jumped. An older woman, elegantly dressed--the office manager--stood behind her, close, her manicured fingers caressing the junior girl's anal cleft. The punished girl looked up, into the eyes of the older woman, who smiled cat-like at her.

The older woman seemed to savor her girl's discomfort at the touch and the situation and said something--there might have been voice--but it was muted and indistinct. The younger girl blushed and stiffened. Another pat-spank, and ohh! The girl looked with dread across the office at one of the doors.

Vicky could see her co-workers stealing glances at her, clearly fascinated with the drama unfolding but trying to avoid her notice. The office manger stroked the hair of the girl fondly and even bent in to give her a surprisingly passionate kiss on her lips.

The younger girl visibly trembled. The office manager gave her a spank! Pointed. Go. The girl miserably started to plod awkwardly across the floor. Hungry eyes tracked her as she shuffled by. Vicky tried to move her hands and got a little flickering spasm of terrible itch around her anus. Oh! She kept her hands where they were, covering her vulva. Watching the girl's pert, spanked buttocks shuffle past her co-workers, she stroked around her clit.

Watching the girl's humiliation was unpleasantly delicious.

The girl knocked timidly at the wooden door, paused, and getting some signal, opened it, blushing furiously. The man inside the large office looked chiseled, handsome. He wore a dark gray suit that might have been Tersnian in cut--but was just noticeably slightly off what Vicky was used to. He met her eyes with a slight grimace.

He didn't look sympathetic, exactly--but it was clear he wasn't glorying in her coming punishment. Vicky, gently stroking herself, thought she looked cute in her distress. He asked her a question, she nodded, blushing harder. Her eyes were focused on an odd black paddle on his desk. It had a few blinking lights near its handle and the material looked like leather--maybe--but a darker shade of black than she had ever seen.

Pink and yellow lights blinked on its surface. Vicky saw her sex clench hard when she looked at it. It was clear she feared and loathed it. A quick cut: the girl, squatting low, naked, in a bathroom, sobbing hard into her hands. From within her sex--under the skin of her buttocks and wrapping around to her sex, a faint light throbbed.

Vicky watched what must be a flashback of the girl, moaning, her hands moving from her tear and mascara-streaked face to hover near, but unwilling to touch, her swollen region. As the dim pink light throbbed from inside her, Vicky realized this wasn't meant to be representation--whatever the paddle had done, it had somehow kindled a glow that left her inconsolably sobbing over the squat toilet, unable, perhaps, to stand or sit, and periodically, helplessly, dribbing pee as the light throbbed.

He gave a command and, with a terrible look on her face,Vicky watched her unhook her skirt and then, whimpering and reddening, undid her blouse and pulled it off.

At his word, she left her clothes in a puddle on the floor and shuffled before him, placing her hands behind her back, blushing down to her breasts. She wore nothing but the collar, the ankle fetter/spreader bar, and the locking high heels. Her hairless sex blazed pink with the lipstick. Her buttocks were a different shade from the spanking she'd received. She was sniffling, battling tears, clearly mortified.

She stood before the man, her spread legs showing off the marked, swollen sex. He spoke to her--a gentle scolding, Vicky thought, rubbing faster. She nodded in wretched agreement--then, it was clearly time. He rose and she, gasping, trembling, came forward to bend and place her hands on the desk.

But he stopped her, coming close, and holding her for a moment. Vicky watched her lean against him, her eyes closed, whimpering, He stroked her hair. Vicky watched her screw up her courage and ask something, looking up at him, moist-eyed.

Surprised, he did a double take. He gestured at the paddle. She shook her head, pleading--please, sir! Not that! Please!!

He seemed flummoxed for a moment by her pleading--and she said something that gave him further pause. Some negotiation. Sir--could you instead--

He hugged her and their eyes met--Ohh!! She KNEW him--she--she--they--were together? Somehow? A secret? Maybe? Maybe not--but her big pleading eyes had their way, and he bent in and gave her a kiss over her mouth. She kissed him back--still humiliated and naked and vulnerable--but ohh.

He guided her down, one hand on her shoulder, the other cupping her rear, his fingers laying between her cheeks. Her hands clutched the edge of the desk, she pushed her buttocks out.

Vicky gave a little moan as his fingers probed her vaginal cleft, coming away wet with her oil. His fingers moved up to her anus and rubbed against it. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head to the side. Ohhh--Ohhh--

Vicky boiled with humiliation--but this--this movie--this... fantasy... was far too close to her own weaknesses--her own thoughts--for her to deny it. She was rubbing herself--masturbating delicately.

The man spanked--slaps to her buttocks, making them jiggle. Little gasps from her. His other hand under her so the fingers of his left hand lay on her clit. SPLAT. SPLAT! SPLAT! Ohhh! The girl whimpered and gasped--but restrained herself from crying out.

But this spanking wasn't what she'd asked her lover for instead of the paddle. No. Vicky gave a whimper as he undid his pants, his cock erect and thick, jutting out. Vicky let out a gasp! She'd requested punishment sex from her disciplinarian. He adjusted his hips so the head of his cock lay against her anus.

Vicky, biting her lower lip hard, was now rubbing herself frantically as the girl squeezed her eyes shut and the man pushed into her. Her anus stretched to spread, taking the cock as he smoothly drove into her.

Vicky watched her cry out--gasping--out of pain, yes--but also out of... pleasure? Passion? His hips slapped against her spanked buttocks. He was big--and ohh--he was deep inside her. Another draw and thrust---her mouth opened in a cry.

On the floor, her high heels danced as she wailed.

He fucked her--ohhh--ohh, he fucked her--and Vicky felt her own orgasm jump and rise and the screen suddenly blanked and then was replaced with numbers and graphs and a language she did not understand.

She was close to orgasm--but the sudden fierce itch erupting all along her vaginal channel neutralized her passion in a cry of discomfort. She squirmed, moaning on the bed. She would have crooked a finger and inserted it into her vagina and scratched viciously if she wasn't certain that not only would she be punished worse for trying it--but that she was being watched and she couldn't bring herself to do it under observation.

Panting and whining, the sensation ebbed after what was likely only seconds but felt like it had been hours---she panted.

"REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM YOUR SHAMEFUL REGION" the voice intoned. "PLACE THEM IN THE WRIST RESTRAINTS."

Slowly, biting her lower lip hard, she did. The arm rests had circular cuffs that tightened as her wrists went through. Worried about what it might do now, she lay there. She looked at the screen, humiliated thoroughly. She heard footsteps.

Oh. Shit. She raised her head. A woman in an odd, severe outfit somewhere between a military uniform and a nurse's dress came forward in measured strides. She wore white leather gloves and carried what looked like a riding crop. She stood between the spread stirrups looking down at Vicky's naked body.

Vicky was surprised to see she looked more... European... than islander. The woman took the crop and traced it gently over Vicky's naked pudenda.

"You may be the first westerner in these chambers in 100 years," the woman said, tapping Vicky's sex lightly.

Vicky swallowed, but said nothing.

"Camelia DeWan," said the short-haired woman. "Of the DeWan--"

The DeWan family, Vicky realized with a start. This was a member of the royal family that had come to power in Tersnia's history of colonization. Her eyes widened. This woman was royalty and she was here, spread and naked.

The woman nodded, pleased, it seemed that Vicky knew the name.