Chapter 12: Anneliese's Dinner
The east sitting room smelled of beeswax and old velvet. Two candles burned on the low table between the sofas, and beyond them, through a tall window, the mountains had gone black against a bruised sky. Anneliese had arrived first. She sat with one long leg crossed over the other, a bottle of red wine breathing on the table beside two glasses, and she looked up when the door opened as if she had been counting the minutes.
"Seven exactly," she said. "I like that."
Chloe closed the door behind her. She was still in her full uniform, the skirt, the knee socks, the blouse buttoned to the collar. The Medium chrome plug sat where it had sat since this morning, warm and insistent with every step, and she was learning to walk around it. Anneliese's gaze traveled down and back up, unhurried, and she smiled as though she knew exactly what the slow gait meant.
"Sit. Wine?" She poured without waiting for the answer, filling both glasses a third full, and handed one across. The wine was dark and heavy on the tongue, cherry and something like iron. Chloe swallowed and felt it bloom under the candle heat.
"Thank you for moving your schedule twice for me," Chloe said.
"Thank you for coming." Anneliese set her glass down. She wore a charcoal dress, simple and expensive, and no school colors at all. Second-years apparently could. "I'll be honest with you, because I think you price honesty higher than most first-years. I asked for this dinner the day I sat at your table. Then Voss claimed your schedule, and I moved. That should tell you where I place you."
"You place me high."
"I place you first." Anneliese said it flatly, a figure in a ledger. "My family has lent this school its money for three generations. I told you that at breakfast. You went to class, and then you came back with a different question in your mouth. I could see it at supper. So ask it. You've been carrying it all day like a stone."
Chloe turned the glass by its stem. The candlelight bent in the wine.
"What does the money buy?"
Anneliese did not smile. She leaned back and crossed her ankles, and for a moment she looked less like a girl of twenty-five than like a banker hearing a good application.
"That's the correct question. Ruby didn't give it to you, so it was Voss. Good. She's worth more than you know." She lifted her glass. "The money buys the school its independence. No ministry, no parents' board, no church. Nobody can audit what happens inside these walls because nobody holds the debt. It buys the archive its locks, and the doctors their licenses to ask strange questions, and the curriculum its privacy. And it buys something else." She paused. "Discretion. When a graduate needs a problem made quiet, or a fortune made faster, or a name placed where it belongs, my family's money stands behind the promise. The alumnae debt is the engine. We are the fuel."
"And you? What do you buy with it?"
"Access," Anneliese said simply. "And I spend it early, on girls the market undervalues. You're the cheapest investment I'll ever make."
Chloe let that sit. Then she set down her glass. "You said you'd trade information. That's why I came. So trade."
Anneliese laughed, low, delighted. "There it is." She reached to the side table and picked up a slim envelope, heavy paper, unsealed. She did not hand it over yet. "Doctor Weller. Forty minutes with your mother's file, register signed, ten days ago. You heard that from Thea, and Thea heard it half right. Here's the half she doesn't know."
She slid the envelope across the table. Chloe opened it. Inside was a single photocopied page, the archive register, a column of names and times. Weller's signature sat mid-page. Beside it, in the column marked sponsored access, was a sum and initials. D.V.
"Devereux," Chloe said.
"No." Anneliese took a slow sip. "D.V. is Vance. Eleanor Vance paid for the file out of her own account, not the school's, and she did it the week after you arrived. Someone above her is asking, and she's paying out of pocket to keep her name clean of it. I carry the board's mail, Chloe. I know what her salary is and what her account looks like. That payment hurt her."
Chloe looked at the initials until the letters stopped meaning anything. The candles guttered and steadied. Vance, who had kissed her in the classroom and stroked her hair in the tower bed, was buying secrets about her mother with her own money and lying about it by omission.
"Why tell me this?"
"Because it's the appetizer, and I want you hungry for the meal. The meal is this: the person Vance is answering to. I will find them for you within the month. In exchange." Anneliese set her glass beside the bottle and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and the candlelight cut her face in half. "I collect my first favor now. Tonight."
Chloe's pulse tapped in her throat. "What favor?"
"A small one. I told you I invest early. I also collect early, so my investors learn what I am." She stood, crossed the rug, and sat down beside Chloe on the narrow sofa, close enough that the wool of her dress touched Chloe's knee. She smelled of wine and vetiver. "The plug. You've worn it since Monday evening as homework. I know because everyone knows, the way you sat through dinner yesterday was in two gossip threads before dessert." Her hand came to rest on Chloe's thigh, just above the knee, warm and light. "My favor is that you tell me, honestly, what it feels like right now. And that you show me. Stand up, lift the skirt, and let me see whether Voss's star pupil keeps her homework in properly."
The room was very quiet. The candle on the left side of the table bent and righted itself. Chloe found she was breathing through her mouth.
"And if I say no?"
"Then you say no, I top up your wine, and we discuss the board member who's buying your mother's file some other night. The offer doesn't rot." Anneliese's thumb moved once, a slow inch along the hem of the skirt. "But you won't say no. You looked at that envelope first and the door second. You're already mine, Chloe. The favor is just the paperwork."
Chloe put down her glass. Her hand was steady, which surprised her. She stood, and the plug shifted inside her, a bright blunt pressure she had spent two days learning to carry, and she heard herself say, "One condition. You answer one more question after. Anything I ask."
Anneliese's smile spread slow and genuine, and she reached for the hem of the skirt. "Lift your skirt, star pupil. We have a contract."
Chloe reached down and gathered the hem of her skirt in both hands. She lifted it slowly, over her knees, over the black lace, up to her waist, and stood in front of the sofa with her cunt and the chrome base of the plug framed in white cotton that was already not white anywhere it mattered. Anneliese leaned back against the cushions and looked, taking her time, the way people looked at a painting they intended to buy.
"Turn around," Anneliese said. "Slowly."
Chloe turned. She felt the plug shift with every degree of the rotation, dragging its fullness through her, and by the time her back was to Anneliese the pressure had her breathing shallow. She heard Anneliese set her glass down on the table.
"Wider stance. Bend a little."
Chloe bent forward over the low table, forearms braced on the wood, the wine in her blood humming. The cool air of the room touched her exposed hole through the lace, and then fingers hooked the cotton aside, careful, one pull, and the air became Anneliese's breath, warm, close.
"There it is," Anneliese murmured. "Voss's chrome. The red suits you. The middle size too."
She traced the plug's base. One fingertip, light as a signature, circling the smooth flange where it vanished into her. Chloe's whole body registered the touch at once, the circle drawn slowly around her stretched rim, the metal faintly warmer than her skin after a full day inside her. The finger traveled the round edge once, twice, pressing the base fractionally deeper each time it passed the lowest point, and each press pushed the flare against her inner walls and made her grip it, involuntarily, a squeeze she couldn't stop.
"Oh," Anneliese said softly. "It just answered me. Did you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Do it again. On purpose this time. Squeeze around my finger."
Chloe clenched. The plug rode up inside her, a bright fat pressure, and the base tilted under Anneliese's fingertip, and a sound came out of Chloe that she hadn't authorized, low and rough in her throat.
"Good girl." Anneliese's other hand settled on her hip, steadying. "That's not your asshole squeezing, that's your cunt joining in. Feel the difference?"
Chloe felt it. Her inner walls had closed around nothing, hungry, and her clit had swollen heavy behind the lace, and the plug sat in the middle of all of it like a hand closed in a fist.
"Voss had you wear this how long?"
"Since Monday evening. Out at night, the middle size in every morning since."
"Two days, minus the night." The fingertip drew one more slow circle around the base, pressing in this time until the chrome nudged her open another hair's width, and Chloe's elbows trembled on the table. "You took it without complaint. That tells me what your ass is going to be worth in two years. Stand up."
Chloe straightened. The plug settled deep and she swayed slightly, and Anneliese caught her hip, turned her, and sat her down on the sofa. The chrome pressed up with the cushion and Chloe hissed through her teeth. Anneliese let her skirt fall back over her thighs, smoothing it down like a tailor finishing a fitting, and picked up her wine.
"My favor's paid," she said. "Well. The first installment. You held still, you answered honestly, and you squeezed when I told you to. That's more than half my second-years manage in a whole term of knowing me." She drank. "Now your condition. Ask."
Chloe pulled the skirt straight and looked at her. Her face felt flushed to the ears, her cunt a slow soft ache, and underneath all of it sat the question she had carried up the stairs.
"Who is Vance paying? You said someone above her wants my mother's file. Vance is paying out of her own account to keep her name off it. Who's she protecting herself from?"
"A name I don't have yet," Anneliese said. "But I have the shape of it." She set the glass down and counted on her fingers, unhurried. "Weller's register says sponsored access. Sponsored means money, and money means the board, because nobody else can authorize a spend. Vance pays privately so the board doesn't see her name requesting it, which means she doesn't want the board to know she's curious. So the asker is either on the board, or close enough to one that Vance fears the look of the request. There are seven voting members. Two are women. One is Ashworth's chairman, who is sixty and has never once asked about a student's mother in twelve years." She paused. "The other is new money. Bought her seat eight months ago. She asked me, at the autumn function, whether Vance had any interesting first-years this year. I said yes. She said, and I quote, does one of them have a surname worth remembering."
The candle between them guttered. Chloe's locket was suddenly heavy on her breastbone.
"She was asking about me."
"She was asking about your mother. Same thing, now." Anneliese turned her glass by the stem, watching Chloe. "Here's what I'll do. I sit near her at every board function. She likes flattery and she likes young women who listen. I'll have her name and her reason inside a month, maybe less if I let her think I'm ambitious rather than curious. That's the meal I promised. It's yours."
"And it costs me?"
"Costs you what everything costs here. Availability. When I send for you, you come. When I need a girl to sit at a board dinner and be charming and report back, I'd rather it be you than Dot, frankly. And when the market decides what you are in three weeks, I want you remembering who found your mother's file for you before you even knew it was open." Anneliese stood, straightened her dress, and looked down at her with the candlelight behind her. "That's not a cage, Chloe. It's a rope with slack. You'll find, in this school, the difference matters."
"Then we have terms."
"We do." Anneliese crouched, brought her face level with Chloe's, and for a moment the banker was gone and something warmer looked out. "One last thing, freely given, no charge. Voss is off campus on business, which I know because I carried the letters. Whatever she's gone to do, two first-years are part of the reason, and you're one of them. She said you'd find out soon." She kissed Chloe once, briefly, tasting the wine off her lips, and stood. "Wear the middle size tomorrow too. I want to hear what three more days does to your walk."
She was at the door before Chloe found her voice.
"Anneliese. What business?"
"The kind that gets decided by candlelight, not classrooms." The door opened onto the dark corridor. "Go to bed, star pupil. Take the plug out slowly."
The door closed. Chloe sat alone with two candles, an empty envelope, and the chrome pressing up inside her like a fact she'd have to keep learning to carry, and thought about a board member with eight months of money asking after surnames worth remembering.
She took the plug out slowly that night, squatting over the toilet with her breath timed to the flare, and the hollow ache afterward felt less like loss than it had two nights ago. That was the part that bothered her, in a way she couldn't name to anyone. She was getting used to it.
Wednesday's ordinary classes passed in a rhythm she almost enjoyed. The plug sat warm and constant through Latin, through history, through lunch, and somewhere around the middle of the afternoon she caught herself shifting on the hard bench not to escape the pressure but to find it. When she went to the lavatory before last period and slid the chrome out for ten minutes, she felt the absence immediately, a strange emptiness, her asshole twitching around nothing, and she was almost relieved to work it back in before class, breathing out around the stretch.
She walked into the east-wing classroom Thursday morning and felt her shoulders drop before she knew why. Voss was at her desk, back from whatever business had taken her off campus, hair pinned, black dress buttoned to the throat.
"You're pleased to see me," Voss observed, watching her take her seat.
"I wasn't sure you'd be back."
"Business resolved. Reports on my desk, please. Your plug journals. And I want the honest version, not the version you think I want."
Twelve girls dug out folded pages. Chloe handed hers over last, three days of notes written in the margins of her ordinary homework: the first night's everything-at-once, the middle size's slow domestication, the sentence she'd finally committed to paper, it feels like being kept, and I've started to like being kept.
Voss read them standing, one at a time, and made no comment. Then she set the stack down.
"Before we begin today's practical. Show of hands. How many of you have had anal sex before? Actual intercourse, not fingers, not toys."
Two hands went up. Renata's, steady. And one further along the row.
"Good," Voss said. "Which in my experience means the true number is three or four."
A third hand crept up, sheepish, attached to Dot.
"Then we'll hear the stories. Renata. When, with whom, how did it go?"
Renata crossed her arms. "Two years ago. A boyfriend. I was on my period and we were both horny and he suggested trying it, so I said fine. It hurt. He was too fast and too forceful, and lucky for me his cock was small. I swore never again." She paused. "After Monday I'm rethinking the personal policy."
"And you." Voss pointed to the second raised hand, a quiet girl near the window.
"I was living at home. A business partner of my father's." She said it evenly, like reciting dates. "I'd given him a couple of blowjobs the year before, and my father's business took off after that, so draw your own conclusions. He seduced me, I'm fairly sure. He was gentle and it wasn't horrible. I had fun, honestly. I think my parents knew."
Voss nodded and moved on. "Dot."
"Sleepover. My friend's brother." Dot went pink from throat to ears but kept going. "It was a dare. She dared me to fuck her brother, and I think she might have already been fucking him herself. It was rough. He slipped out and drove into my pussy three or four times before he figured out where he was, and when he pulled out the last time he came on his own pants."
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, and Voss let it run out.
"Those sound like first-time stories," she said. "Any kind of sex, anal included. Pain, fumbling, a boy who doesn't know his own anatomy. Today opens a different world. None of that applies here."
She walked to the door and opened it. Four men came in. One was older, fifty at least, grey at the temples. Two looked to be in their early to mid thirties. The fourth couldn't have been more than twenty, and he wore the Ashworth uniform, blazer and tie, and stood straighter than the others.
"Today, ladies," Voss said, "you're going to get your asses fucked."
The room went still. Somewhere a chair creaked.
"Positions. First, bent over the table's edge. Your man lubricates you and enters slowly, and you fuck in that position briefly. Then you turn around, lie back on the table's edge, lift your legs, and a second man takes you that way. Third, you sit down on a third cock yourself, on top, controlling the depth and the angle. You ride until he tells you to get off, before he comes. Today is not about the men finishing. It's about your experience. Relaxation matters more than force. Some of you will find it easier to bear down a little as he enters, as though pushing out. Others won't. Learn which you are. No tongue preparation today, only lube. Your plugs come out when you're called."
Renata's hand went up. "What does the fourth man do?"
Voss walked to the Ashworth student. "This is Barry. He has earned a special reward for academic excellence. He was given several options for that reward, one of which was to fuck a first-year girl in the ass. I personally agreed to it." She let the murmur die. "After the training session, he'll choose from among you."
Barry's ears were red but his eyes moved over the twelve of them without apology.
"Disrobe," Voss said.
Uniforms came off around the room, blouses, skirts, the black lace, folded on chairs. Twelve bare bodies in the cool room, twelve plugs glinting faintly when any girl turned.
"Ericson."
Sonya came forward, a nineteen-year-old blonde with heavy tits and curvy hips, a Nordic beauty who had coasted all term in the middle of the pack. She walked to the front with her chin up and only partly managed the confidence. She bent over the table's edge, ass toward the class, and gripped her cheeks with both hands when the man Voss called number one told her to spread.
The jeweled plug showed between her fingers, shiny and seated, her dark-tipped lips visible below it. Number one knelt, close, unhurried. He tugged the plug gently, wiggled it, twisted it in small circles, and Sonya's breath changed audible pitch. Then he began to draw it out, slowly, in and out, a little further each time, pulling her tight brown eye partially outward with the flare, the edges of her ring giving way a little more on each pass. Finally it slipped free.
Sonya moaned, soft and unrestrained. Her hole stayed dilated for several seconds, open and glistening, before it began to shrink.
Number one already had a squirt of lube on his right index finger. He pressed it into her still-open asshole and rubbed it around in slow circles, coating the ring and the first inch inside her. Then he slicked his cock, which was already hard, stroked it twice, and pressed the head against her.
He went slow. Almost halfway on the first long push, her ring spreading around him inch by inch, and then he drew back out, added more lube, wiped a dab across her gaping hole, and slid in again, deeper.
Sonya let out a moan with nothing held back this time, her fingers still spreading herself wide, her hips tipping back to meet him. There was no pain anywhere in the sound.
He fucked her with long steady strokes, unhurried, the whole length of him drawing out until only the head held her ring and then sinking back to the root. Chloe watched from her seat, three rows back, and noticed what Voss had chosen. The man was average. Not the foot-long instruments that kept appearing in these rooms, not the thick curved cock she'd taken at Ashworth. Just a well-made ordinary cock, maybe six inches.
A deliberate choice, she thought. Today was supposed to teach their asses what a real first time felt like, not break them.
Number one's pace never changed. Sonya's fingers stayed hooked in her own cheeks, holding herself open, and her moans came on a rhythm now, one soft sound per stroke, her heavy tits swinging under her with each push. Her plugged-and-trained hole took him without a flicker of resistance, the ring smooth and dark around his shaft, a thin ring of lube pushed out on each stroke and wiped back in with his thumb.
"Hold," Voss said.
He drew out and stepped back. Sonya's asshole stayed open for a long breath, a dark relaxed O, glistening, before it began to close.
"Turn around. Sit on the edge of the table and lie back."
Sonya turned, sat, and lay back on the table's edge, the wood under her shoulder blades. She lifted her legs high and wide, knees toward her ears, her ass presented at the table's edge, open and shiny with lube.
Number two, the other thirty-something, slicked his cock with a pump of the clear gel and stepped in. He hooked his hands under her thighs, pulled her toward him so her hips hung at the very edge, and pressed in. He went in easily, one slow motion, her loosened ring accepting him to the base without a pause. Sonya's mouth fell open.
"See how easy," Voss said to the class. "That's yesterday's homework fucking her for her right now. Position two exists so you learn the angle from below. Some men prefer it. You'll want to know how to lift your legs and when."
He fucked her the same way number one had, long steady strokes, no force, no hurry. Sonya's ankles crossed behind his shoulders on their own. Her hand drifted down and found her clit and she rubbed it in small circles while his cock worked her ass, and nobody told her to stop.
After some minutes Voss called time. "Third position. Sit down on him yourself."
Number three lay on his back on a padded bench beside the table, cock standing straight up, slicked and ready. Sonya stood on trembling legs, swung a knee over him, and reached down to take his cock in her hand. She pressed the head against her asshole and began to sit, leaning her torso slightly back, controlling every inch. Her breath came out in a long unbroken sigh as she lowered herself, taking him and taking him, until her cheeks settled against his thighs and she had all of him, base to head, inside her.
"There it is," Voss said. "The deepest you'll get without a strap. Ride."
Sonya rode. Slow at first, then longer, rolling her hips forward and back as much as up and down, learning which angle dragged against the front wall of her ass. Number three lay almost motionless beneath her, his hands flat on the bench, his face concentrated on something invisible, letting her do everything. She went up and down for about as long as the other two positions had lasted, her tits bouncing, her sighs deepening, before he slid a hand under her ass cheek and lifted her off him.
She got up and stood over him, looking down at his still hard cock, half expecting some brown color on the shaft. There was nothing. Only creamy residue, mostly lube, white and faint against the skin. She looked at it for a second longer, and something in her face relaxed.
"Note that," Voss said. "Clean anatomy, proper lube, a trained hand, and this is what your ass leaves behind. Dirt belongs to bad technique. It isn't inherent to the act."
She made a mark on her clipboard. "Higgsworth."
Diana Higgsworth came forward, dark-haired, slim, chin set like she was walking to an oral exam. She bent over the table's edge and spread herself, and number one knelt behind her, tugged the plug free in the same slow circles, and pressed into her before her ring could fully close.
The winces started early. Chloe could see them run down Diana's back, small flinches at each stroke, her knuckles white on the table's edge. Number one slowed further, gentled further, one hand flat on her lower back, steady and patient, and Diana breathed through it, jaw tight, taking him through the first hard stretch of it.
Then, near the end of the bent-over position, the sound came. A low moan, surprised out of her, her head dropping between her shoulders, her hips pushing back a half inch to meet him. The flinches stopped. When he pulled out, her face showed plain disappointment before she arranged it.
"You felt it turn," Voss said. "That's the moment we're training you toward. Hold it in your memory. Higgsworth, turn around and lie back."
Diana took position two, legs up, and number two entered her with the same ease he'd entered Sonya, her first-time wincing already fading. Voss walked around the pair fucking at the table's edge, watching the angle of entry, and looked back at the rows of naked girls.
"Gather around. Closer. You're watching the angle of his cock against the wall of her rectum, so get where you can see it."
The class came up in a loose ring, bare feet on the stone floor, twelve girls and Voss clustered around the table. From two feet away Chloe could see everything, the pink stretched ring around the moving shaft, the lube shining on Diana's spread cheeks, the small muscles in Diana's belly jumping on each downstroke.
"Two of you on lube duty," Voss said, pointing. You'll handle the men's cocks. Pump of gel, one hand, coat the shaft. The men will keep doing the girls' assholes themselves, fingers only. This saves time, preserves a stretched ass between positions, and keeps the men hard without wasting them." She looked at Rebecca Hammersmith and Kelly Osworth specifically. "And do not give them a handjob. Coat, don't stroke. A man edged too long comes too fast in a tight ass and we lose the session. Light hands. You're maintaining, not milking."
Dot nodded, pink to her ears, and pumped gel into her palm.
Diana's third position went the way of Sonya's, her riding slower, more careful, the wince ghosting back at the deepest point of each descent. When the man under her lifted her off, Voss was already moving on.
"Ericson's second rotation is done. Bennett. Front."
Chloe stood, her own plug shifting inside her with the first step, and walked to the table edge with her pulse loud in her ears.
She bent over the table, reached back, and spread her cheeks for number one. His thumb found the base of her plug instantly, her bare skin felt his hand, and and then he tugged, and Chloe's breath caught at the flare dragging through her.
"Comfortable?" Voss asked.
"No," Chloe said, honestly. "She's sore. But she's ready."
Voss's mouth twitched. "Then proceed."
Across the table, Keiley Hanford had already pumped clear gel into her palm and was working it down the older grey-templed man's cock, light-handed, coating him without stroking, her small fist moving like she was polishing glass. He thickened under her hand, red and full, and Chloe looked at him and understood he was her third cock of the session.
The head pressed against her ring. She breathed out, bore down a little, the way Voss had told her to learn whether she was, and her asshole opened around him, slow and smooth, taking the first inch and then the next.
"There," Voss said quietly, from somewhere behind Chloe's shoulder. "That's the bearing down. Feel that, everyone. She's chosen that pushing out is helping her, not clenching. Its not the same for everyone, write it down."
Number two took her at the table's edge next, her legs hooked over his forearms, and Chloe felt the difference in angle immediately. He was thicker at the base and it dragged against the front wall of her ass with every stroke, and each drag pulsed somewhere deep in her pelvis, a pressure that pushed against her g-spot from the wrong side and made her clit throb in sympathy. The soreness was still there, a low burn at her ring, but it was being overwritten, stroke by stroke, replaced by something warm and heavy and satisfied. Her ass was being used and it liked being used.
"Good," Voss said, somewhere behind her. "Her ring is soft now. Feel how it opens for him on every backstroke. Write that down too."
Then number three, the older man, grey at the temples, lay back on the padded bench for her. Chloe swung a knee over him, reached between her legs, and took his cock in her hand. Slick from Diana's palm work, hard and warm. She pressed the head against her asshole and leaned back, and sat down on him inch by inch, controlling everything, her breath going out slow through her nose.
He filled her deeper from this angle. The fullness spread through her whole pelvis, and she felt it everywhere, in her clit, in the ache of her g-spot, in the backs of her thighs. She began to ride. Up a little, down to the root, rolling her hips forward so the crown of him ground against the front wall of her ass.
And she knew exactly what she was. Leaning back over him, torso arched, a cock moving in and out of her ass while her cunt hung open above it, pink and wet and partly spread, facing the room. Twelve naked girls watching her. Voss watching her. The men watching her. The awareness of it went through her like another hand on her body, and she rode harder for it, shameless, her tits bouncing with each drop onto him.
"Look at her," she heard Dot whisper, and someone shushed her.
The pressure built fast. The fullness and the angle and the eyes on her all tangled together, and her orgasm came up from somewhere under the cock in her ass and broke over her in one long convulsion. Her hips stuttered, her back bowed, a sound tore out of her throat that she hadn't planned to make.
The man under her hesitated. She felt it, felt him stop mid-lift, his hand already under her ass cheek, holding her a half second longer than he had to. Letting the wave finish rolling through her before he raised her up off his cock. She understood what he was doing, and it undid her further. She came up off him slowly, still pulsing, and rolled to the side onto the bench, gasping, her asshole clenching around sudden emptiness.
From somewhere in the circle a girl sighed, low and involuntary. Chloe knew the voice. Marguerite. The first girl she'd gone down on here, watching her now with her hand pressed flat against her own sternum.
Chloe got her legs under her and stood. The next girl was already bending over the table for number one, hissing at the first push, and before Chloe had found her place in the ring of bodies the girl's hiss had turned to a sound of pleasure and she was pushing back against him on every stroke.
Chloe had almost forgotten her plug. Anouk appeared at her elbow holding it, and handed it over without a word, the smaller girl's pale face flushed a deep patchwork of red down her neck.
The rotations finished one by one. When the last girl lifted herself off number three's cock, wobbly and smiling, Vance paced along the front of the room, hands behind her back, watching the twelve of them like a woman auditing inventory. She stopped at Sonya Ericson.
"Do you wish it had lasted longer?" Vance asked.
Sonya looked at her, tits swaying, lips still wet. "I enjoyed it very much."
"Ericson. To the front."
Sonya went to the center of the group and stood at the table's edge. Voss looked at the three men and said, "Gentlemen," and nodded once, and stepped back.
Number one took the big-titted blonde by the waist. Not rough. Purposeful. He turned her toward the table and bent her forward over it, and Sonya went willingly, her heavy breasts flattening against the wood. Diana Higgsworth was already there with a fresh pump of gel in her palm, coating his cock, stroking until it stood iron-hard in her fist, while the man's own fingers worked lube into Sonya's asshole.
He slid in with no resistance at all. Sonya's mouth opened and a moan came out of her chest, deep at first, and then louder as he picked up speed, louder than any girl had been all day, loud and unguarded through her open mouth. He fucked her harder than he'd fucked anyone. The table creaked. Her ass slapped against his hips.
He came with a grunt, pumping into her, sinking only half his length on the last strokes, and when he slid out a thick blob of cum ran from her wide-open hole and down her thigh. Number two replaced him almost instantly, driving in as if he were a continuation of the first man, and Sonya's moans climbed again until she was the one moving, slamming herself back and forth on his cock while he just stood there holding her hips. She came like that, loudly, bucking, and he came inside her through it. He pulled out and another gush ran from her red, gaping asshole, pooling on the floor between her feet.
Number three stepped in behind her and sank into the well-fucked opening easily, and it was then, unexpectedly, that Anouk dropped to her knees in front of man number two and took his slick, softening cock into her mouth. She cleaned him thoroughly, cum and lube and everything else, humming around him, and the man held the back of her head, his cock pressed to the back of her throat, and appeared to give her a few last squirts. She swallowed and stayed kneeling, flushed scarlet, looking pleased with herself.
Several girls in the circle had gone visibly worked up, hands drifting. When number three pulled out of Sonya at last, two of them rushed forward to share his cock between their mouths, kissing around the shaft.
Chloe saw her opening. Sonya still stood spread-legged against the table, leaning forward, cum streaming down both thighs. Chloe knelt behind her.
She started at the girl's knees and licked upward, gathering the rivulets of cum off the soft inner skin of her thighs, thick and warm on her tongue. There was a lot of it. It had run forward too, down onto Sonya's pussy, and Chloe went there next, licking between the lips, through the folds, tongue-flicking her clit and the crevices beside the hood until the skin was clean and shiny with spit instead. Sonya shivered under her mouth but stayed bent over the table, holding herself open.
Then Chloe finished at her asshole. It was still open, wide and red and pulsing, closing and opening slowly on nothing. Chloe licked around the rim in one slow circle, tasting all three men at once, and then plunged her tongue inside her, deep, pressing her face into the girl's spread cheeks. The inside was hot and slick and musky, and the taste of it, three men's cum mixed with the nearly neutral lube and the dark warmth of Sonya herself, pooled on her tongue and she swallowed it and went back for more. The lube was just filler, she decided, filler that made the volume feel enormous. The rest was the good part.
I'm going to do this again, she thought, tongue buried in the girl's ass. Soon.
Sonya made a small broken sound against the table.
"Note that as well," Voss said dryly, from somewhere above them both. "Cleanup is a skill. Bennett has just demonstrated why the kitchen staff fight over her."
Chloe stood and stepped back, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. Her face was still wet and sticky, cum and lube and the darker taste of Sonya clinging to her chin. Sonya had partly composed herself, straightening from the table with trembling legs, and rejoined the semicircle of nude, freshly assfucked girls. The three men stepped back to the side of the room to watch.
Voss walked to the center, her eyes moving over the group. A few of the girls were squirming where they stood, shifting weight off sore holes, pressing thighs together. Voss noted each one, her gaze cataloguing without comment.
"Rein it in now," she said. "Control and composure. How you recover in the next five minutes is the difference between looking subservient and looking dominant. Decide which you'd rather be read as."
Then she raised her voice. "Barry. Front of the circle."
The Ashworth student came forward still in his uniform, a little wide-eyed, his hardon straining visibly against his trousers. He stopped in the center and looked at the twelve naked girls like a boy who had won a raffle and wasn't sure of the rules.
"Volunteers," Voss said.
Chloe stepped forward. So did Kelly, Diana, and Rebecca.
Voss turned to him. "Your pick. Choose well."
Barry looked over the four of them, his throat working. "It's such a hard choice. They're all so incredible."
Voss smiled, slow and knowing. "Fine, then. Ladies, assume position one for our very lucky guest."
All four bent over the edge of the table, feet apart, asses presented. Chloe rested her forearms on the wood and felt the cool air on her sore, well-used ring.
Voss began undressing the young man herself. Sultry, unhurried, teasing. Her hands ran along his body as she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding the fabric off his shoulders, palms tracing his chest. Then she moved behind him, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants. She squatted down and pulled them down to his shoes. His feet slid out of the black leather shoes and he stepped out of the pants and boxer shorts.
She held his hips and turned him around. He complied, letting the older woman take charge. His cock stood at attention, flushed and rigid.
Voss opened her mouth and took him all the way down to her throat in one motion. Barry's hand drifted toward the back of her head, and without even a twitch or a sound she lightly slapped it away, holding herself buried on his cock, her throat working around him.
She pulled off and stood, wiping the corner of her mouth. She looked back at the class.
"Come forward. Every one of you gives him a little present before he fucks four asses."
The girls lined up. One by one they took him into their mouths, each sucking him briefly, taking him as deep as she could manage, then a few head bobs before surrendering him to the next. Marguerite was the first to come off him. Voss motioned her over and pressed the lube bottle into her hands.
"Get them ready."
Marguerite worked methodically. A squirt of lube over the asshole of each of the four bent girls. The cooling gel landed on Chloe's sore hole and she sighed at the relief of it. Then Marguerite worked a heavily lubed finger into each girl, circling slowly, keeping them relaxed and stretched outward. Her fingers were careful and warm, and Chloe pushed gently against each pass.
"Keep it brief," Voss instructed the girls at Barry's cock. "He needs to cum in someone's ass, not their throats."
The last girl released his cock from her lips, and Marguerite quickly grabbed it, coating it with a couple pumps of the thick clear gel, stroking him twice, and pulled him by the shaft toward Chloe's asshole. Voss watched with a sly smile.
Barry almost clumsily plunged his cock into her asshole.
Chloe cried out and moved forward away from the cock ramming into her. "Not so fast," she called back over her shoulder.
A couple of girls muttered low about the aggressiveness of the entry. Barry looked slightly shaken and stopped moving altogether.
Chloe sensed she might have startled him. She began moving back and forth against him, a little harder and farther than she was really comfortable with, but she wanted to make sure he was able to continue. After a few motions his hands were back on her hips and he began moving on his own. Slow and shallow at first, deeper as Chloe pushed against him further each time. Before long he was going in all the way, his balls slapping her pussy, his abdomen hitting her ass cheeks.
Voss walked up to him. "Remember, you have three more asses that need to be fucked."
He withdrew almost immediately. Chloe, suddenly missing the sensation, reached down and started rubbing her clit, watching to her side as Kelly received a slightly gentler entry than she had been given.
He managed to pull out of Kelly and move to the third girl. Diana. He gently slid into her and she let out a long low moan, pushing back against him as he entered, taking him all the way in on the first stroke.
Chloe saw Diana look over at her, watching Chloe's expression while she got assfucked, somehow enjoying having Chloe look into her eyes during it. Diana closed her eyes and began moaning more regularly, then glanced at Chloe again with a mischievous look. Then her face made an expression of effort as Barry let out a grunt and moan of his own. Diana relaxed for a couple more pumps from the cock in her ass, strained again, and Barry pulled her back against him forcefully, his hands hard on her hips.
He began to cum. He leaned back, holding his pelvis against her, his cock buried as deep as he could keep it, pumping his load into her ass. His whole body shook with it. When he relaxed and pulled out, his cock glistening, cum welling at Diana's gaping ring, the fourth girl, Rebecca, dropped to her knees and sucked him clean, her tongue working every last trace of lube and semen from his shaft while the room watched.
Voss made a note on her clipboard.
"Class," she said. "Diana just earned a full report grade. Watch her face when you're doubting yourself." She looked at the four bent girls, then at the line of nude young women. "Diana, stay bent. Higgsworth, you'll take the cleanup demonstration. Bennett, tongue, since the kitchen fights over you. and you've shown such an appetite for cum today."
Chloe straightened, her face still tacky, and moved behind Diana without being told twice. She spread the girl's cheeks and pressed her mouth to the well-fucked hole, her tongue sliding into the warm, cum-filled depth of it, gathering what Barry had left there. Diana moaned low and pushed back into her mouth. Chloe swallowed and went back for more, deliberate and shameless, while twelve girls watched and Barry stood cleaned and dazed his cock relaxing almost fully now, wearing only a pair of black socks.
Diana shivered under Chloe's mouth as the last of Barry's cum came up on her tongue, and Chloe pressed one more slow lick around the red, pulsing rim before she sat back on her heels and wiped her chin. Diana straightened off the table with a small sigh and rejoined the line.
Voss made two marks on her clipboard, then a third, then looked up.
"Bennett. A word, since the room can hear it anyway." She turned the clipboard toward the class like a teacher holding up a graded page. "During the fourth rotation, you clenched on him. Twice, hard, timed to his strokes. You took a boy who was going to come whenever his body decided and you decided for him. That is grip control under load, on your first anal session, and it is worth points. Considerable points. Yes, Bennett. I noticed."
A few girls turned to look at Chloe. Chloe kept her face level, but her sore ring twitched with something like pride.
"Unfortunately," Voss went on, "I am now taking every one of those points back. You know why."
"Rebecca," Chloe said.
"Rebecca. Barry was owed four asses today. You took the fourth with your squeeze. Now the poor boy goes home with thirteen mouths on his cock and only three holes to brag about, and tonight, lying in his bed at Ashworth, he'll be staring at the ceiling wondering what your asshole might have shown him that Kelly's and Diana's didn't." Voss's mouth curved a fraction. "In this class, taking points from another girl is still taking. Balance the books next time."
"I understand," Chloe said. She did, and it stung in a way she suspected was the point of the sting.
"Barry." Voss beckoned him forward. He came with his huge grin and his black socks, cock half-relaxed and swinging, entirely at ease now in a way he hadn't been an hour ago. "Please tell the class how the session was from your perspective. The visual impact. The sensations as the class performed on you. In particular, the three girls you fucked. Similarities and differences."
Barry cleared his throat, looked at the twelve of them, and found his voice.
"God, okay. Visually?" He shook his head slowly. "Watching them getting fucked by the other three men first, that was. That was incredibly hot. I stood there with a growing hard-on just watching Sonya get it and I thought I was going to come before anyone touched me." A couple of girls laughed. He grinned wider. "The instructor sucking me without any warning, that was mind blowing. I didn't even see it start. And the way she used her tongue on the bottom of my cock, right there, that ridge? I've never felt anything like it. That's going to be a thing I think about for a year."
"And the girls," Voss prompted.
"Right, sorry." He held up a hand toward Chloe. "First, I'm sorry. I drove into you way too hard at the start."
"That's fine," Chloe said. "It was new for both of us."
"You saved me, actually. You started moving back on me until I found my rhythm. I appreciated that a lot." He turned his palm toward Kelly. "Second girl, no offense to Chloe, but her ass was tighter. I felt more confident by then. Steadier." He paused, hunting for the words, and when he found them his face went honest. "But it was Diana. When I was in her, she suddenly gripped me, hard, twice, like a fist closing. That's what sent me over. Just two squeezes. I couldn't have stopped if the building was on fire."
"Her grip or your limit?" Voss asked, dry.
"Her grip. Absolutely her grip." He laughed. "And then getting sucked again after, honestly, if that had gone on another minute I'd have been ready to go again. This was the absolute best sex I've ever had, and I'm glad I'm a long way from graduating."
The class laughed and clapped a little, and Barry went red to the ears with pleasure.
"Thank you for your candor," Voss said. "Genuine reporting is worth more to me than flattery. You may dress."
The girls moved before Barry knew what was happening. Kelly appeared at his side holding his boxer shorts open at his feet, and he stepped into them. She drew them up his thighs with both hands, careful over his cock, and then took his trousers from the chair and held them open for him to step into, one leg and then the other, pulling them up and settling the waistband. Dot, quick to take the cue, came and held his shirt open like a valet, and he slid an arm in, then the other, and she buttoned him up the front, her fingers working the small buttons while he stood there grinning down at her. Renata buckled his belt and adjusted it two notches, tugging his shirt tails straight.
"First class treatment," Barry said, awed.
"Get used to it," Kelly said, patting his flat stomach. "You earned it today."
Barry turned to rejoin the three men standing at the side of the room, and it was Rebecca who leaned in as he passed, close to his ear, her voice almost a whisper but carrying in the quiet room.
"I hope you can fuck my ass sometime," she said. "You've got one credit saved."
Barry made a sound like a hiccup and walked the rest of the way with his ears crimson.
" Ladies," Voss said, raising her voice, "a clap for our guests."
The twelve of them applauded, bare and sore and smiling, and the four men went out the door with four identical grins, Barry last, looking back once at the line of naked girls like a man leaving a dream he intended to dream again.
Voss wrote one more line, unhurried, and closed the clipboard with a snap.
"That's the term's first anal session complete. Dress. Reports Monday." She gathered the velvet case under her arm and paused at the door, where the last of the men's footsteps were fading down the corridor. "And ladies. Next time, someone's going to learn the the necessity of the large plug."
The door shut behind her. For a moment nobody moved. Then the room broke into noise, twelve girls pulling on blouses and laughing and comparing soreness, Dot already recounting Rebecca's whisper to Liv, Diana standing with a hand flat on her own stomach like a woman guarding a secret.
Chloe dressed slowly, buttoning her blouse while the room emptied. Her ring burned low and steady, a warm complaint she was starting to think of as hers. She tucked the middle plug into her skirt pocket, wiped her mouth one last time with the back of her wrist, and checked the little clock above the door.
Half past five. Two hours until Anneliese, candlelight, and one question she'd been given permission to ask.