(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including male and female chastity, use of multiple spanking implements, and an anal hook. This story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is effectively impossible, but all characters gain at least some enjoyment from the scenes depicted and are over 18. Some activities may be unsafe to recreate. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)

***

For a brief moment, Kristen had wondered she might be finished with classrooms. Her résumé had already been judged and found adequate. Anything she added to it now would be a hobby of her own choosing, rather than a desperate bid to be noticed and chosen for the best opportunities.

What better opportunity could she possibly hope to compete for than the one she’d already been offered, as a trainee of the Bureau?

Already, they had moved her out of her childhood home and into a barracks of other future pleasure control officers. They had issued her a level one ID card. She had been allowed to handle misbehaving citizens’ most delicate parts, almost at her own discretion.

She was practically a member already.

Never again would she have to slog through dull, redundant homework that no teacher would even look at, just to remain officially compliant with her obligations to society.

These were the naïve thoughts she’d entertained before she’d received her training schedule.

Only two hours of each day were devoted to working with Officer Deacon. During those precious two hours, Kristen got to shadow her mentor in action, assist her with whatever she needed, and sometimes handle a session under her supervision, with breaks for one-on-one coaching.

Another six hours of each day… classrooms.

“Pop quiz, tactile, rear,” Professor Lawrence announced as he strolled in, setting a large plastic crate on his desk and opening the lid. He stroked his short, blond goatee, deliberating over the contents with subtle enjoyment.

Without so much as a sigh of protest, all fifteen trainees in attendance stood up. Fifteen locked chastity devices clicked against the individual plastic desks attached to their seats, as they bent over the front of them.

Like Kristen, everyone else in her Disciplinary Tools class was currently serving their mandatory three-month deprivation period. During that time, they were all barred from trading for any release at all, regardless of their performance or merit point totals.

Bent over their desks like this, their short, white trainee tunics rode up behind them over their open-backed devices, completely exposing their asses to the front of the room.

Professor Lawrence started with the front row, pacing back and forth, choosing trainees out of order.

Kristen kept her head down, but she could identify almost half the tools he quizzed them on by sound alone.

A menacing swish followed by a localized pop.

Riding crop, Kristen wondered.

“Riding crop, sir,” said the guy in the front row.

She smiled for him.

A much lighter swish followed by a more diffused wooden slap.

Paddle 1.

“Paddle one,” said the young woman on the receiving end.

When he finished with the first row, Professor Lawrence proceeded down the center aisle, clearly aware of the imposing shape of his shadow and click of his boots. As a professor, he had more flexibility in his wardrobe than trainees or officers. His tweed jacket and pleated suit pants made him look broader than he was, and made it easy to forget that, underneath, he was caged by the Bureau just like everyone else.

Kristen was ready for him.

Being punished by men had been the hardest part of the curriculum for her at first, but the more practice she got wielding her authority over both men and women in the visitor rooms, the easier she found it to accept her place the classroom, no matter who was running it.

Right now, Professor Lawrence was her instructor, and she was a trainee. Last month, she had been nothing but another subject of the Bureau. She was working her way up, and this was how.

She knew every tool in that box, how to use them, and how to explain them thoroughly to visitors. She was glad when he chose her first out of the second row.

Professor Lawrence stood behind her for several anticipation-building seconds, before snapping the mystery implement across both her cheeks.

The explosion of stinging pain, and the corresponding flare of arousal inside her cage, made it harder to concentrate than it had been while listening to everyone else’s turns. Still, Kristen kept her head about her, adding up the details from all her senses.

“Strap two,” she identified the implement with ninety-five percent confidence.

“Incorrect,” said Professor Lawrence, tongue lingering fondly over the sounds. “Pay closer attention.”

Kristen’s throat tightened. She had been so sure she knew them all. Being the first to get one wrong hurt more than the second snap of the implement against the exact same strip of skin.

“Maybe… strap one?” she guessed again. It felt too wide for strap one. It also felt slightly too narrow for strap two, if she was honest. But there was nothing in between those two options.

“Incorrect,” said Professor Lawrence. “This time, describe it.”

He snapped it across her upper thighs.

“Describe the object, or the sensation it produces?” Kristen asked with the breath she’d been holding in.

“The object,” Professor Lawrence answered. Thankfully, he seemed to discover the question valid, and not a reason for an extra stroke.

“It’s a flexible strap approximately an inch and a half in width,” said Kristen. “Real leather, grain side facing me, with a stitched border.”

“And which implement in the Bureau standard discipline arsenal fits that description?”

Kristen wondered until she felt the strap brush her ass again in warning.

“None of them, sir,” she said.

“Are you sure about that?” Professor Lawrence asked.

“Yes!” said Kristen, hoping her emphasis sounded nervous instead of indignant, which was closer to how she felt.

Professor Lawrence brushed her ass again and then wound up for another snap, which didn’t come. He reached forward and allowed the strap to hang in front of her face instead.

“It’s your belt,” Kristen identified the object, indignation growing.

“Correct,” said Professor Lawrence. “So why did you think it was strap two?”

Because it’s the closest thing we’ve been trained with, wondered Kristen.

“Because… I made a false assumption about the parameters of the quiz,” she answered.

“Correct again,” said Professor Lawrence, giving her a hearty pat on the back.

Kristen didn’t think she’d ever gotten a literal pat on the back for anything before. It felt so good that her annoyance slipped away in spite of her.

Professor Lawrence took her hand from where it was hanging over the side of the desk, and pressed two straps into it. She knew them by touch alone: strap one and strap two.

“Take these back to the barracks tonight, and practice with them until you’re certain you couldn’t mistake them for anything else. And the next time something feels off, don’t doubt yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

The professor varied up his pattern after that, weaving back and forth between the second and third rows. Kristen counted each quiz as it passed. Hers was the only one that came with a trick.

The very last student to fall under Professor Lawrence’s attention was Zach, Kristen’s lefthand neighbor when they were sitting up, righthand neighbor when they were in this position.

A controlled breath of sympathy ran through the room as the students heard, not an impact, but the cap of the professor’s lube bottle. Zach was only the third out of the fifteen to be tested on something insertable.

Brushing her hair out of her face, Kristen stole a glimpse of the long, hooked piece of metal, with its shorter, beaded end sinking into Zach’s ass.

“It’s…” Zach’s breath went shallow. “Is it plug one?”

Kristen winced at the easy mistake.

“Incorrect,” said Professor Lawrence, sliding the hook out and back in.

The hook’s most distinguishing feature was its long handle with a chain on the end, designed to lock around the subject’s neck. When engaged, the chain kept the hooked end trapped inside the subject, forcing them to hold their back straight until it was removed.

Professor Lawrence currently had that long handle angled just far enough away that Zach couldn’t feel it along his back.

“I… I don’t know then,” said Zach. “It’s not from our arsenal?”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Professor Lawrence, penetrating him again.

“I don’t know, sir!” Zach repeated.

“Pay attention to the shape.”

He pulled the hook out and plunged it in harder than before.

“I can’t!” said Zach, reaching instinctively for his chastity device, trying uselessly to rub himself through the bars of the cock cage. “If I could just cum, I’d be able to think straight!”

“Our graduates discipline their minds to be stronger than the urges of their bodies,” Professor Lawrence reminded him, thrusting the beaded end in again. He pivoted the handle to the left and then right, twisting the end inside Zach.

“Yes, sir,” Zach moaned, but did not follow this with another guess.

Professor Lawrence continued, driving the end of the hook in three more times, with a pause after each one to give Zach a chance to respond.

He only moaned and stroked his chastity device with melancholy longing.

“Describe it,” the professor prompted him for an easier, partial response. He pressed the hook in far enough for its curve to cradle Zach’s tailbone, as a clue.

Zach still responded with nothing but more moans, pressing his forehead against the back of his chair, with his face turned slightly in Kristen’s direction.

His eyes were fixed on someplace beyond the classroom around them, far away from the task of guessing.

When Kristen had watched just about as much of this as she could take, she coughed and brought her hand to her mouth, with one finger in a hooked position.

The noise brought Zach’s eyes into focus just in time for him to catch her signal.

“It’s a hook!” he exclaimed with the thrill of revelation. “Hook… hook number three!”

Professor Lawrence pulled the hook out of Zach and stood in silence in the aisle.

Kristen braced her still-exposed ass for whatever might follow, instead of the word “correct.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Kristen,” Professor Lawrence finally responded. “Front and center now, both of you. Everyone else, back to your seats.”

Kristen stood and pulled her tunic skirt down to the tops of her thighs. She held her head high as she made her way to the front of the room, trying to imagine only the punishments she knew she could handle — whipping, hot wax, suspension of the senses she had left — anything but revocation of her place here.

Zach shuffled along beside her in a daze. He met Kristen’s eyes once, and when he did, he couldn’t seem to decide between gratitude and accusation.

“Why did you give Zach the answer?” Professor Lawrence asked when the two trainees were lined up in front of his desk.

Denying it would only make things worse now.

“Because he was checked out,” Kristen answered, face forward. “Fucking him with that hook wasn’t getting anyone anywhere.”

“Correct,” said Professor Lawrence.

Kristen looked to the professor, startled. By the slight shuffle in the room, she guessed she wasn’t the only one.

“You didn’t trust me to recognize a problem that was obvious to a trainee such as yourself?” Professor Lawrence asked her.

“I….” A lie was never the right answer. “No, I guess I didn’t,” said Kristen.

“We’ll discuss that after class.”

“Yes, sir.”

The professor shook his head with a put-upon sigh and turned to the rest of the class.

“As I was about to segue into explaining, before Kristen’s initiative got the better of her, there will be countless moments in your work as officers when your subjects will slip out of the motivation zone. Can anyone guess what I mean by the motivation zone?”

Most of the class was staring at their desks, coming up with notes to take, lest they absorb some of Kristen and Zach’s guilt just by looking at them. No one raised a hand.

“Let’s illustrate it with a demonstration, then,” said Professor Lawrence. “Thankfully, we already have two volunteers.”

He arranged two folding chairs on opposite sides of his desk to imitate the visitor rooms, relocating the crate of implements to the floor.

“Kristen, you’re going to be the most uncooperative subject you can imagine, every officer’s nightmare. Shouldn’t be too hard for you. Zach, you’re going to be the officer. Apply whatever tools you find necessary to bring her to heel.”

Kristen and Zach took their seats.

“What am I in for?” Kristen asked.

“Let’s say cheating,” said Professor Lawrence. “You’ve been sent in by your employer for cheating on a training exercise.”

Kristen supposed she should have seen that coming.

“So,” Zach cleared his throat and folded his hands on the desk. “How are you feeling about what you did?”

He seemed to perk up considerably as he slipped into the role of officer. He’d all the time been better at practical exercises than test-taking.

“Like a fool, officer,” Kristen answered.

“You’re an uncooperative subject,” Professor Lawrence reminded her.

“Right, sorry.” Kristen shook off the urge to placate and please. She crossed her arms, shrugged sullenly, and gave the reins to her most dangerous, thoughtless instincts. “I feel fine about it. I did what seemed right at the time.”

“Have you thought at all about what would have happened if you’d just shown trust in your trainer?” Zach asked. “Your classmate would have been fine in a few minutes anyway, and you wouldn’t need to be punished now. Are you telling me you wouldn’t go back and do things that way if you could?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you,” Kristen doubled down.

Zach’s officer mode wavered for an instant, replaced by a secret smile for Kristen. He seemed to have settled on gratitude over accusation.

When Professor Lawrence circled into a position where he could see Zach’s face, the smile vanished without a trace.

“I’m calculating your debt at, let’s say, one hundred points,” said Zach. “How would you like to pay it?”

“I wouldn’t,” said Kristen.

“You won’t leave this building until you do,” Zach injected a bit of growl into his voice, which clashed mildly with his slight frame.

“Fine,” said Kristen. “Guess I live here now. Oh, wait, I already live here.”

“If you don’t choose, I’ll have to choose for you,” Zach went on. “So, I’ll ask again, how would you like to pay?”

Kristen kept her arms crossed and her mouth shut.

“That’s an extra fifty points of debt for failure to answer,” Zach pointed out.

Even in this mock session, the wondered made Kristen’s stomach clench a little, but what was done was done, as far as her careless character was concerned. She shrugged again.

“My choice it is, then,” said Zach. “You’ll earn back fifty points of your debt with mandatory lockup. That’s an additional two months on top of your current sentence. No release no matter what other points you earn in that time.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” said Kristen.

“The other hundred we’ll take care of more efficiently,” Zach stepped up the harshness in his voice. “Fifty strokes of the level two cane.”

“Are you prepared to follow through on that?” Professor Lawrence asked Zach. “Full force?”

Kristen’s already unsteady stomach rolled a somersault. She couldn’t be held responsible for the attitude of a character she’d been assigned to play, could she? Three months of deprivation already felt like an eternity ahead of her. She wasn’t sure she could endure five. And cane two had brought her to tears with just ten strokes during her sampling session with it.

“Now, sir?” Zach asked, authority dropping into uncertainty. “I thought we were just practicing.”

“Can you do it?” Professor Lawrence repeated.

“I… I could,” Zach was careful to give a direct answer. “But… it’s Kristen. She’s—”

“A human being who broke the rules,” said Professor Lawrence. “Just as your subject would be if this were real. Are you preparing to handle real cases, or are you just playing around and wasting time?”

“Preparing, sir,” said Zach.

“Well then…” said Professor Lawrence.

Zach looked back to Kristen. His harshness was more forced when she said, “Bend over the table.”

Kristen kept her arms crossed. If she was gonna be forced to accept the stakes of this character she hadn’t asked for, she would at least accept the opportunity to vent her frustration and be as stubborn as she pleased.

“Make me,” she said.

Zach’s mouth fell open slightly.

“That’s another fifty points,” he said shakily. “Another twenty-five strokes.”

“You’ll have to deliver the other fifty first,” said Kristen.

Giving up on words, Zach stood up, letting his chair scrape against the floor, and picked the bamboo cane out of the crate of implements. He walked up to Kristen.

She held her ground on the chair.

Zach sprang forward and grabbed Kristen by the arm.

“Get on the goddamn table,” he shouted, trying to drag Kristen bodily over the wooden surface.

Kristen dug in her heels. She had at least a twenty-pound benefit on Zach, and there was simply no way the shorter, skinnier trainee could budge her without flailing and straining like a bored little kid pulling on a parent’s hand.

By wedging his foot against Kristen’s chair, Zach did manage to force her most of the way to her feet a couple times, only for a second or two at a time, long enough to swat at her ass with the cane.

They were rushed, glancing, single-cheeked blows — still painful, but in a way that shocked Kristen into laughter rather than tears.

“Stop,” said Professor Lawrence, after the second hit.

The slight chuckle in his voice emboldened the rest of the class into a few nervous laughs of their own.

Kristen and Zach broke aside and stood in front of the professor’s desk again.

“Did that feel powerful?” Professor Lawrence asked Zach.

“No, sir.”

“To anybody?” he asked the class.

The other trainees shook their heads.

Professor Lawrence sat down in the folding chair that Zach had vacated, motioning Kristen to return to the one across from him.

Not having been given permission to return to his own desk, Zach hovered awkwardly behind them.

“You really wanted to help your classmate, didn’t you?” Professor Lawrence asked Kristen in a soft, conversational tone.

Kristen wasn’t entirely sure who she was supposed to be now, but the answer was the same either way.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t mean to make things worse. We all know that.”

“I really didn’t,” Kristen agreed.

“Would you be willing to help him in a more appropriate way? With some private tutoring?”

“Sure,” Kristen responded instantly, without thinking about it. She was all the time happy to distribute (and, incidentally, show off) the things she’d learned. It was a lot more satisfying than biting her tongue while someone else struggled.

“I’d love to provide the two of you with some privacy and access to tools,” said Professor Lawrence. “But I can’t just go around rewarding dishonesty in my classroom. We’d end up turning out completely unqualified officers. It’d help if you’d accept responsibility for what happened.”

Kristen watched him warily, preparing for the moment when he would problem an official question or command, and she would have to respond.

“Punishment for cheating does have to be severe,” said Professor Lawrence, with the same helpful tone. “But I think we can still manage to make it quick. We can even let Zach administer it, so that you can apologize for making him an accomplice.”