Jenny's Education Ch. 01

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T-girl attends a S & M school.
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Wow, jenny thought, this is just like college night classes for sub sluts. Her Master had left the brochure on the kitchen table when He left for work, telling her that after her morning chores, she should read it, and make a list of the three classes she'd like to take, the ones she could use the most.

"Don't worry, my little bitch, over time, you'll take all of them. However, with housework and serving me, you'll only be taking one or two at a time."

The brochure listed course offerings for the next session, beginning in only two weeks. Only a few of the advanced classes had beginner level prerequisites. Students who were submissives only would be accepted. TV's and TG's were welcome, but there was a dress code specified. Slut or slave, genetic female or wannabe, all were required to wear skirt or dress, heels and hose to and from class. Masters/owners were encouraged to customize their women's wardrobes, but no girl could enter the Academy unless she was appropriately dressed.

The moderate cost per class surprised jenny until she read the footnote detailing the requirement of written release for video taping of the classes for sale on the internet. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but would, naturally defer to her Master's desires.

After studying the two dozen classes offered, jenny carefully listed the three she felt would please her Master the most: Basic Body Piercing, Anal Dilation and Milking, and Introduction to the Cane. They had discussed her getting piercing beyond the earrings she wore. Master just didn't have the extra time to devote to her anal dilation and teaching her to milk His cock with those muscles, but she knew He would like it. The cane, of course was the implement she especially dreaded, but knew Master would be pleased with her willingness to submit to its searing caress.

That evening, after she cleared away supper, washed the dishes and straightened up the kitchen, jenny joined Master in the living room as He watched television, sinking to her knees beside His recliner. Absently stroking her long blond hair, He waited until the commercial before speaking.

"Well, slut, did you make your list?" So confident in her obedience and submission, He didn't have to elaborate further.

"Yes Sir, here it is." Carefully removing the paper from her skirt pocket, she handed it to Him.

"Hmm, very excellent choices, my dear. I'm glad you've remembered some of the things we've discussed. But just so you know, I intend for you to take all of the courses over time. I've already talked to the Academy, so they'll be expecting you tomorrow when you go sign up for your classes."

"Classes, Master?" jenny asked. She thought she'd get only one at a time.

"Yes, well I think you can manage two at a time. We'll start you off with Basic Body Piercing and Intro to the Cane. Would you like that?" His smile sent a shiver down to her shriveling 'clit.'

"As always, this slut only desires to serve and please my Master, sir," jenny replied.

Two classes! Her mind swirled like a child on Christmas morning, but for the nagging thought of the cane lurking in the shadows.

"W-will there be a safe word, do You think, Sir," she asked hopefully.

"Silly cunt, this is a controlled environment. There won't even be the need for any safe words." He motioned her up onto His lap. One hand began caressing her nylons under her skirt. The other playfully tugged at an earring. "Yes, we need quite a few more piercing in you."

"As Your whore, Master, I welcome any piercing You require," she answered, snuggling down closer and opening her thighs to give Him easier access.

Later, in bed, she pleasured Him with her mouth. As always, she was eager, but relatively unskilled. He had been her very first man, so she was glad he was sending her to school to learn to service Him as expertly as any high-dollar hooker. Afterwards, He put clamps on her nipples, and teased her 'clit' with the heavy duty vibrator. Squealing from the added pain as He twisted the clamps, she arched her back, bucking against the insistent machine. The closer to orgasm she got, the more she promised to learn to take the cane as often and hard as he might wish. By the time she came, she was begging for welts.

Drifting to sleep later, she promised herself to make her Master proud as the very best pain-slut in the history of the Academy.

In the morning, after her household chores were finished, jenny dressed for her visit to the Academy. Wanting to look her best, she struggled into her most severe girdle. The garment's stiff boning made it painful to even bend over to put on her stockings. Having several errands after registering for classes, she slipped into a pair of 3 inch heels. Combined with the black hose, even these modest stilettos gave her legs a head-turning sexiness she loved. A short, tight skirt ensured that no one missed her leg show. From long experience, jenny knew that the long sleeved red chiffon blouse, buttoned to the collar, drew lustful stares to her firm breasts every bit as much as a plunging neckline would.

Having applied makeup daily for several years, it took only a few minutes before she was ready to face the world. A bit of brush work and hairspray tamed her shoulder length blond hair. Opening her purse, she double checked its contents: lipstick, compact, blusher, hairbrush, tampon, pad, condom, cell phone, and wallet. Although she carefully tracked her periods on the kitchen calendar, and was totally monogamous, Master insisted she always carry the tampon, pad, and condom 'for emergencies.'

Picking up her purse and key ring, she headed out.

Registering at the Academy was easy. Master had already taken care of the fees. She only had to sign the appropriate release forms and indicate which classes she was taking. Sitting across from the Registrar, jenny unconsciously kept trying to stretch the skirt to cover more of her thighs, down to her knees. She just knew the woman behind the desk was inspecting her legs as the material refused to cooperate. But jenny had to admit the whole sign-up procedure was as non-sexual as registering at a 'normal' community college. Paperwork completed, she was given her class schedule and room assignments.

Master had told her at breakfast that the classes were to be considered as regular college courses. She would be expected to take notes and study at home. He had made arrangements for her to pick up a notebook laptop computer at an office supply store. Having determined the model and memory capacity necessary for her, and already paid for it, jenny would only need to select the color, and pick up a soft-sided case for it.

At the store, she approached the customer service desk. jenny smiled as two young men wearing employee shirts began stuttering as they offered to assist her. One managed to pull his eyes from her chest to her face, but the other guy couldn't look above her thighs, leering at her black hose and high heels.

She smiled as they stumbled over each other like two small puppies, displaying the notebook color choices. After jenny chose the soft pink model, they repeated their performance as they showed her the soft-sided carry cases. The unanimous decision was the darker pink one with the padded shoulder strap. A spiral bound notebook and a couple of felt tip pens fit perfectly in the extra compartment alongside the laptop. Declining the offered plastic bag, "Let's save a plastic tree," jenny slid the strap on her shoulder and walked to her car.

Hurrying home, she prepared an extra nice meal to show Master her gratitude, smiling at the thought of how else she would thank Him.

When supper was finished, she was given permission to leave the kitchen cleanup for morning so she wouldn't be late for her first night of class.

Trepidation dueled with her excitement as jenny drove to the Academy for her first class. The school was housed in a two story red brick building at the edge of a tired industrial complex on the seedier side of town. Outside, the building looked like any other old machine shop, but the fenced parking lot was well lit and the security grates over the windows wore fresh black paint. The neighborhood hadn't looked nearly as scary in the daylight.

Scanning the lot carefully, she unlocked her door and slid out with her purse and computer case. Exchanging pleasantries with the other women making for the entrance, she was relieved to see that her short skirt, hose and heels were indeed the unofficial school uniform. From the postage stamp sized foyer, they were buzzed into the corridor beyond. Since they already had their classroom assignments, in twos and threes, they searched out the rooms.

No one else had mentioned the caning class, so jenny was surprised when she finally found the room and saw three other women nervously standing about. At exactly 7 o'clock, the instructor strode in and told them to occupy the four seats closest to the front of the room. They slid into the school desks, arranging their skirts, purses and book bags.

"I am Miss Johnson. At all times you will address me as 'Mistress.' Is that understood?"

The cheerful chorus of "Yes, Mistress" brought a smile to her face. "You ladies won't be so happy saying it in some of our later classes," she said ominously.

"Alright, get out your notebooks and let's begin, shall we," Miss Johnson continued. "Since this class and the entire Academy is rather intimate, when I call your name, please stand up, introduce yourself, explain why you are here."

When her turn came, and she was glad it was second, jenny stood up, "Hi, I'm jenny, a T-girl - well actually a woman compared to you young girls." The other three girls giggled. "My Master decided that I needed some advanced training, to be a better slut for Him actually, so that's why I'm here. He says I'll eventually complete all the classes at the Academy. Oh, and I'm a housewife," she added proudly.

The other three students were also T-girls, in their early to mid twenties. Bridgette worked as a waitress and was presently unattached. Toni was a post-op exotic dancer who's boyfriend wanted to feature her in some S & M movies. The last girl gave her name only as "slave 17" and said that her owner wanted her trained as a pain-pig for His personal enjoyment and possible future prostitution.

"You can chat when we take a break later on," Miss Johnson quieted them. "Caning is the art and science of beating a submissive's body with a semi-flexible yet hard implement. It usually isn't an actual 'cane.' That comes from the use of the flexible rattan and bamboo canes used in the English educational system to discipline students. But as you know, or will learn, not all canes are created equal." She smiled at her own bon mot.

"How many of you have actually experienced the cane?"

Both slave 17 and Bridgette raised their hands.

"17, tell us what it felt like."

"W-well Mistress, it hurt a lot. It felt like a line of fire across my ass."

"Bridgette, tell the class what position you were in for your caning. Were you restrained? How many strokes?" Miss Johnson said.

"Ma'am, er, Mistress, an old boyfriend made me kneel on the bed. He said I was bad, and gave me ten strokes with a switch on the ass. No, he didn't tie me up," Bridgette answered.

"Young lady, calling me 'Ma'am' just earned you the first demerit of the class." She made a notation on her class roster. "Ten strokes is more foreplay than serious discipline or punishment caning. And kneeling is probably the easiest position for the cane. We'll be exploring other possibilities. For this class, you will have homework assignments, tests along the way, and a final exam. You will construct a suitable cane for your owner/Master, and will experience the effects of expert caning in different positions. Come here, jenny," she announced.

More curious than concerned, jenny rose, unconsciously smoothed her skirt, and stood before Miss Johnson, "Yes, Mistress?"

Directed over to a sinister frame of heavy pipe and leather restraints in a corner of the room, jenny wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Following Miss Johnson's orders, jenny blushed as she removed her skirt. Stepping to the frame, she instinctively spread her legs to reach the wide ankle restraints. Bending at the waist across a thick bar, she stretched out to grip another pipe with wrist leathers attached.

"Tonight, each of you will get a taste of the cane, to better appreciate what we're talking about. Jenny is going to take one stroke. For that, the restraints won't be necessary. Do you wish for the gag, my dear?" Miss Johnson inquired.

"No, Mistress, I don't think so," jenny replied in a scared voice.

Taking a limber rod from her desk, Miss Johnson continued her lecture, "This is a nice, wicked fiberglass cane. I prefer one that's a bit thicker and heavies, but with this kind of flex."

Without warning, the cane landed across the center of jenny's pale blue panties. The onlookers heard the distinctive sound of the impact, but jenny was too busy sucking in breath to contain the pain to hear it or appreciate Miss Johnson's expertise as she held the cane in place for the extra seconds to raise a proper welt when she suddenly snapped it away from the quivering bottom.

A deep groan was jenny's only response when she had sufficient air in her lungs. Her eyes misted, but no tears fell. She held the position until Miss Johnson replaced her with another girl. Each in turn received their single stroke. Only the dancer squealed out loud, earning herself a demerit. "And those demerits will be redeemed with the cane at the conclusion of the semester, ladies," Miss Johnson reminded them.

Wiggling to ease the pain of the rising welts, the girls then watched a full length caning movie, having been instructed to write a report on it for the next class, in addition to a diary with photos of their first cane strokes, how it felt, the daily changes in appearance, and how they felt about it.

Unlike her classmates, jenny managed to keep her hands from rubbing her poor welted bottom until she was in her car after class. She was excited about the class and found the subject intoxicating. Driving home, she fantasized about being buckled into the leather restraints on the whipping frame, gagged, and caned to the point of orgasm. 'You sick bitch,' she said aloud, shaking her head, but feeling a tingle nevertheless. She couldn't wait to get home to tell Master all about her class. But her excitement about the caning class was shoved aside as she began fantasizing about tomorrow night's class on body piercing. Oh, it was going to be a fine semester!

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