Finishing School (Part 2)

The next morning, I woke up with my body still charged and my lingerie all but falling off of my mostly naked body, reminding me what a disobedient slut I was the night before. Then I remembered the full punishment that awaited me, and wondered what Madame X’s Finishing School held in store…

On the chair next to the bed, you’d laid out clothes for me to wear, and a packed suitcase sat on the floor. I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom, removing my tawdry lingerie and stepping into the shower.

As soon as the hot water hit my already electrified body, I was instantly tempted to remove the showerhead and aim the steady stream at my aching clit. But I’d been caught doing exactly that in the past, on another occasion where you had forbidden me from having an orgasm, and my punishment was severe. Not only was the length of your No Orgasms decree doubled, but I’m pretty sure several of our neighbors witnessed me being stripped and paddled in front of our large bay windows.

Showering thoroughly but quickly, I made sure to slather myself in the lotion and perfume that you liked best. Then I slipped into the outfit you’d laid out for me… black lace push-up bra and tiny g-string, covered by a demure black pencil skirt, dove gray button-up shirt, and black pumps. Naughty underneath and polished up top, your favorite.

As I entered the kitchen, you looked me over approvingly. I sat at the table where you’d laid out coffee and breakfast for me, ever the considerate master.

“Thank you,” I said with a small smile. “This looks delicious.”

“So do you,” you said, caressing my face.

I blushed and laid my napkin on my lap, tucking into my meal.

“Eat up,” you encouraged. “If what I’ve heard is any indication, you’ll need your strength for Madame X.”

I looked up to see a subtle, ever-so-slightly wicked smirk on your face, and suddenly my fresh, clean panties were ruined with desire.

---

Madame X’s Finishing School.

We pulled up in front of what looked like a large, Victorian bed and breakfast. There was no sign to be seen, just vast, rambling lawns and lush gardens surrounding the house. A grand wraparound porch completed the sensation that one had just stepped back in time.

Inside, however, was entirely contemporary. The… butler? who answered the door was of nondescript gender, with closely cropped hair and a uniform of leather pants and a fitted black blazer. We were led to a sitting room of sorts, replete with sleek, modern furniture.

After being asked to wait, you instructed me to sit on the spotless, structured couch.

Moments later, a tall, striking woman entered the room. She held out her hand to you and you clasped it with both of yours. Before I knew what was happening, you both turned to me with expectant faces.

“Oh!” I popped up from my seat, showing my deference by standing, but clearly many moments too late.

The woman tsk’d, looking me over.

“I see we have our work cut out for us,” she mused, smiling at you. “Remind me of the challenges you’re having with her?”

Guiding me into position - standing in front of the couch, hands clasped demurely - the two of you sat on the couch, and proceeded to discuss me as if I were not there, though with frequent scrutiny of my face and figure.

“It’s hard to say which is the biggest problem,” you sighed. “Her manners are atrocious, and she far too frequently behaves like a pouty, ungracious brat. She’s also terribly wanton, and often has to be reminded of when and where her lewd, indecent ways are permissible.”

I blushed, feeling a surge of electricity run through me.

With a sigh to rival yours, the woman - who I could only presume was Madame X - stood and circled me, slowly.

“I see… And what methods of correction have you tried?” she asked.

“Numerous. She’s been stripped, spanked, paddled, deprived of orgasms, made to serve me in a variety of ways and in various states of undress… She’s done chores and written lines…”

Madame X nodded in approval.

“Is she under orgasm restriction now?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I’ve forbidden her from touching herself for the duration of her time here.”

“Is she only forbidden from touching herself, or from coming altogether?”

You considered Madame’s question before responding, and I waited with tingling anticipation.

“I will leave that to your discretion. If a situation arises where you deem it necessary to make her come, I will allow it. But only if it’s under your direct orders.”

I bit back a whimper, my mind spinning with the thought of what possible situation might cause Madame X to order me to come…  

The two of you continued your conversation about me, and I did my best to look demure, staying silent with my lashes lowered. 

“Has she been punished or humiliated in front of others?”

“To a degree, but not in any official capacity.” 

You went on to recount my lingerie exposure to the neighbor the previous night, as well as the afternoon of paddling in front of the windows. I felt the flush in my cheeks extending to my chest, and heat radiating from my thighs and between my legs… 

“Mm, perhaps we’ll have to change that,” Madame X pondered aloud. Addressing me for the first time, she caressed my face as she spoke. “And what do you think, my dear? Shall we start with a little public confession?”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but I knew better than to start asking questions. I licked my lips before I spoke, making sure my gaze was properly lowered.

“I-if you think that’s best, Madame…”

Without another word to me, she took a step back and returned her attention to you.

“We can work with her,” Madame X declared, and you stood, approaching me.

“Put your hands behind your back,” you commanded, and I obeyed at once. Running your thumb along my lower lip, you lifted my chin so my gaze met yours.

“You remember what we talked about?” you prompted.

I nodded, letting you play with my mouth. Slipping two of your fingers inside, you shoved them in and out, slowly…

“Show me what a good girl you’re going to be for Madame X,” you instructed.

I dutifully sucked your fingers, even as you backed away, making me bend forward to continue doing as I was told. With my ass sticking out and my tits straining against my blouse, I sucked and sucked… 

Glancing to the side, I saw Madame X watching intently, clearly enjoying my compliance.

Abruptly removing your fingers, you left me panting where I stood. Moving behind me, you wiped your saliva-coated fingers on my ass.

“Good luck with her,” you said to Madame X. “She seems obedient now, but it’s because she knows she’s in trouble. It’s very easy for her to forget her place.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Madame assured you.

“And you, my pet…” gently gripping my face, you turned my eyes toward you. I was still bent forward, my clothes stretching against my curves, and you drank in my submissive posture.

“Be good,” you commanded, and I nodded, not taking my eyes off of you.

“Yes, boss,” I promised, with every intention of doing my very best.

Releasing my face, you leaned down to lightly kiss me on the lips, and then you were gone.

I’m not sure what I expected to happen next, but it was not the cool touch of a thin, leather collar that Madame X fastened around my neck. She did not explain or even speak to me, she simply attached a black leather leash to my collar and led me out of the room.

Not instructed to do otherwise, I kept my hands clasped behind my back as we moved down a wide hallway, passing several closed doors, until we reached the end of the hall and turned right. Madame opened a pair of double doors and tugged on my leash, leading me across an open-air courtyard and through another set of doors.

The room we entered was a classroom, with about seven women sitting at small, sleek desks, copying a series of rules from the screen at the front of the room. They all looked up and dropped their pencils immediately when they saw Madame, lowering their respective gazes to the floor.

I didn’t have time to read the rules, as Madame pulled me forward and positioned me to face the class, my back to the screen.

“Girls, we have a new student.”

When Madame spoke, all of the women looked up and gave her their full attention. I noticed that everyone wore a version of the same thing - navy blue skirts and white t-shirts - though some were shorter and tighter than others. One woman was clearly braless, her pert nipples visible through the cotton fabric of her shirt.

“Her master tells me that she has not experienced significant public humiliation, so we will start her training there. Perhaps if she is extensively disgraced, it will help her learn how to behave herself.”

I shifted in my heels, the thought of “significant public humiliation” making me feel both mortified and… horny.

Madame removed my leash and stepped back, looking me up and down. Then she turned back to the class.

“I need two volunteers. Who would like to strip her of her clothes?”

All seven hands shot up in the air. Madame took her time selecting volunteers. I chewed my lip under the torture of anticipation.

“Bimbo and Gossip, you may come up.”

The braless woman and another student stood, not bothering to hide their glee at being chosen. The other girls lowered their hands without complaint.

Madame advised my tormentors to leave me in my bra and panties, for now, and they set to work. While one of them stood behind me and unbuttoned my blouse, the other relieved me of my skirt. They tugged my clothes off of me, until I stood in front of this room full of strangers in nothing but my skivvies.

Upon Madame’s direction, they took my clothes with them back to their desks. Something about having my skirt and blouse so far away but within my line of sight made me feel exponentially more vulnerable.

“Grab your elbows behind your back and turn around for us, slowly,” Madame instructed.

I did as I was told, at first in a room of utter silence. Then Madame told the class, “Feel free to react openly,” and I was hit with an onslaught of whispers, giggles, and vulgar comments.

“...look at the titties on her, someone should tear that bra off her…”

“I’m sure we’ll get to see them soon, the dirty little slut…”

“...see them? I want to play with them…”

“....you can have her tits, I want that sweet ass of hers bouncing in my lap…”  

I cringed, ashamed not only by what they were saying about me, but by the wetness I felt between my legs. I couldn‘t help it… They were right, I was a dirty little slut.

“That’s enough,” Madame casually declared, and the chatter ceased immediately. With an arrogant smirk, Madame looked me up and down. “It’s working already,” she announced, and went on to address me directly.

“Tell us, slut. What did you do to land yourself here? And be detailed. We want to hear about all your disobedient sins.”

“I… um, I…” I cleared my throat, starting again. “I have a lot of b-bad behaviors to c-correct… but my boss tells me the worst ones are… offensive manners, e-especially at meals, l-like interrupting people, and t-talking with my mouth full… and um, forgetting myself and f-flirting too m-much, and showing off my b-body without per-permission, like l-letting my t-tits spill out of my t-top, and um, bending o-over in sh-short skirts and accidentally fl-flashing p-people… and um, the worst, I’m t-told… is that I act like a sp-spoiled, petulant little b-brat… that I t-talk back and get h-huffy and roll my eyes and c-complain when I-I’m told what t-to do…”

It felt like my entire, exposed body was blushing as I stood there and stammered out my infractions. Madame grinned as she observed my suffering, then handed a sharpie to the closest student, a pretty young woman with ramrod straight posture who practically bounced out of her seat.

Teacher’s pet, I thought.

“Based on her crimes, what do you think this naughty slut’s name should be?” Madame asked the student. Her uniform perfectly pressed and in place, the woman turned to me and looked me up and down. Then she approached me and uncapped the sharpie, writing a single word in large block letters across my cleavage.

'BRATTY'

She returned to Madame and handed over the marker, resuming her seat.

Reading the word with a bemused scoff, Madame patted her prize pupil on the head.

“Excellent. I especially enjoy your choice of ‘bratty’ rather than ‘brat,’ as it sounds more like the scolding this one clearly needs. Class, you will from now on only address this slut as ‘Bratty.’ To do otherwise will result in immediate discipline.”

“Yes, Madame,” the students responded in chorus.

“Now, two other bad behaviors I heard Bratty mention were rudely interrupting others and carelessly showing off her eager, wanton body. As you all know, we practice a mantra here at Madame X’s Finishing School - Let the punishment fit the crime. What is the punishment for talking back or interrupting?”

She called on a woman in the back row, who she addressed as Nympho.

“Talking back or interrupting will result in the offending slut being gagged with the tool of Madame’s choosing.”

“Very good,” Madame praised, and Nympho beamed. “Since Bratty has confessed to both of these transgressions, I’m afraid her punishment will need to be severe.”

I did my best not to squirm too much, in case there was a punishment for not standing still. Clearly, I was already in a lot of trouble.

“As for the implement,” Madame continued, “who can tell me the punishment for whorish behavior?”

Teacher’s pet raised her hand, and to my surprise, Madame addressed her as Filthy. Whatever her sins of the past, Filthy had evidently come a long way.

Reciting the rule like a very well-trained parrot, Filthy looked right at me as she spoke.

“Lewd, obscene, or salacious behavior of any kind will result in the offending slut being sexually used, humbled, and/or humiliated in the manner of Madame’s choosing.”

“That’s correct.” She gave Filthy another pat, making the girl sit up even straighter. “And since Bratty has confessed to all of these crimes - talking back, interrupting, and unsanctioned salacious behavior, I’ve decided she will be gagged with her own dirty panties.”

A titter of laughter swept through the room, covering the small whimper that escaped my lips. Madame allowed the women to continue their giggling, taking delight in my punishment and adding to my humiliation as she stripped off my thong and held it up to the class, putting the soaking wet fabric of the crotch on display.

“Just as I suspected,” she boasted. “Look at the mess this little whore already made. She hasn’t even been here an hour, and these are some of the dirtiest panties I’ve ever seen.”

There was more laughter and jeers from my fellow students as Madame ordered me to open my mouth.

“Wider, slut,” she commanded with a smirk, and I did as I was told.

Madame balled up my sopping wet panties and shoved them in my mouth. Her smile broadened as she stepped back and told me to say, “I’m a rude, dirty little brat.”

Through a mouthful of panties, I did my best to follow orders. The muffled, garbled words that came out just made the class laugh at me more, especially when a sliver of drool spilled onto my cleavage. 

Mortified as I was by all the laughter and taunting, I almost didn’t realize that Madame had stepped to the side of the room, and was busy taking pictures of me with her phone. All I could do was stand there, naked but for my heels and a push-up bra, grasping my elbows behind my back, which further boosted my cleavage and the word BRATTY written across my tits, with my own dirty thong shoved in my mouth.

It was the most degrading, humiliating thing I had ever experienced… and I knew that if someone so much as breathed on my clit, it would take me about five seconds to come.

I heard the whoosh of a message being sent just before Madame put her phone away. She told the class to settle down as she stroked my hair.

“Bratty’s master has been updated on her progress so far,” Madame announced, “with some deeply embarrassing photos of her that will surely be cherished, and who knows… possibly shared with others.” 

She turned to me with her smug, easy superiority and commanded me to stand in the front corner of the room. I did as I was told, facing the class as Madame instructed.

“For the rest of class, Bratty will stand in the corner and think about all the naughty things she’s done- Ah, wonderful. Your master has replied.”

Responding to a chime from her phone, Madame read the message and then brought it over for me to see.

“Read it aloud for us- oh, ha, never mind. You can’t.” She glanced at the gag in my mouth and chuckled, taking her phone over to Filthy instead. Madame’s prime pupil stood and cleared her throat, reading your message to the entire class. It said:

“Perfect. Looks like exactly the sort of humiliating reprimand my bratty little harlot needs. Keep up the good work. And please, don’t hold back. Do whatever you need to do to her. I need her fully trained and behaving properly by week’s end.”

“Mmm, such fun to look forward to,” Madame mused. “After class, we will continue with the first day of Bratty’s training, just as her master requested - pulling out all the stops and educating her in every way possible, to make sure she really starts to learn her lesson. What suggestions do you have, class?”

With Madame’s permission, the students shared their thoughts freely again…

“Make her mop the kitchen floor, naked, on her hands and knees.”

“Or she could hang up the laundry out back, just like she is now.”

“...and then parade her around the block on her leash!”

“Let me take off her bra and torment her tits while you all watch…”

“...bend her over your desk…”

“Ooh yes, we can all take turns spanking her-”

“And fucking her!”

“Let’s take her outside and fuck her, so all the neighbors can watch, too…”

Madame thanked the class for their enthusiastic ideas, and assured them that she would consider all of their creative input.

“And will there be any pouting if I don’t choose your idea?” Madame asked the class.

“No, Madame,” the women answered.

“Good,” Madame said, relishing her control over the group of willing, obedient students. “Now, who can recite the Submissive’s Creed for us?”

As class went on, I did just as Madame said. I stood in the corner, stripped, chastened, and ashamed, thinking about all the naughty, disobedient things I’d done to put myself in this position.

TO BE CONTINUED...

***

More by Eva Monroe:

 To Sir, With Lust