Physical Education
Louisa Bacio
A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication
A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication
www.ravenousromance.com
Sex University: Physical Education
Published by Ravenous Romance
at Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 by Louisa Bacio
Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite
123A
Beverly, MA 01915
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-341-2
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
I, Amanda Wilkinson, hereby give the instructors of San Francisco Sex University permission to fuck me in the ass.
No one fucks at SFSU without explicit permission. During enrollment, a student signs a number of consent forms. When Amanda, who usually went by the handle Mandi, heard about the sex-training school she ached to place her signature on those forms. Mandi felt like she’d had an average sex life, including losing her virginity at seventeen to her high school boyfriend. But at 24, her curiosity had grown a little out of control and she decided to learn from the professionals.
Recently, Mandi had graduated from a traditional college with her degree in marketing. Up until this point, she felt like she’d followed the well-worn path that society, and her parents, had laid out for her. Now, when most expected her to get a nine-to-five office job, she didn’t feel like conforming. Bored with the job hunt one night, she started scanning the personals section on a website and came across a teaser ad for Sex University. A sense of excitement started in the pit of her stomach and quickly traveled through the rest of her body: Dare she do the unexpected?
The admission process at SFSU took just about as long as any college. First there was an application, complete with an autobiographical essay, and then came the physical and oral exams. The school screened all applicants for sexually transmitted diseases several months prior to check-in.
Sex U. trained students in a variety of fields. The Dominatrix Diva sequence rivaled anything that Europe had to offer; High Society Seductress prepared women who were marrying into upper-class families; Pubic Relations taught the finer points of female enjoyment; and students who aspired to being paid to bring pleasure for a living signed up for Sex on the Sly. The school had some hopefuls who wanted to teach at the university, and then there were those like Mandi who wanted to expand their extracurricular activities. The thought of being filled anally excited her, and sometimes when she masturbated, she rubbed the puckered hole, but as soon as a partner even tickled her rosebud with a finger, she clamped the muscles tight. No entry was possible. She hoped the staff at SFSU would be able to teach her to loosen up a bit. She’d never know if she could enjoy it if she was never able to try it.
Even with all the mental preparations, Mandi hesitated on the last consent form; she looked up and took in her surroundings. What was she doing here? Was she crazy for giving herself, her body away, willingly? She could have a handful of lovers at any time she wanted. There were hundreds of potentials’ numbers – men and women – in her phone. Many of them, she was sure, would be more than willing to give her pleasure and help in her education, so to speak. Instead of doing the sensible thing, she did the opposite, the extreme. Just like always. Maybe she wasn’t so average.
The representative helping her could only be described as Surfer Boy gorgeous. As if he sensed her hesitation, he smiled at Mandi. Wavy blonde hair curled around his ears, and blue eyes that sparkled like the moon on tropical ocean water peeked out from behind long bangs. Stark white teeth contrasted against his tan skin. His nametag read “Blaine.” Mandi had heard of dance clubs where “only the beautiful people were allowed.” That rang true here. Not only were the applicants screened for their mental state but also for their physical characteristics.
Physical beauty and, even more importantly, a glamorous inner charm had blessed Mandi since her youth. At five feet seven inches, she could have starred in ZZ Top’s “Legs” video, because she was all legs. She possessed long, sculpted legs with calf muscles toned from modern dance. She wore a black miniskirt with a slit that flared over her full hips, accenting her dancer’s ass. Not too big, but definitely woman enough.
Her black hair hung in thick ringlets down past her breasts. She tucked a handful behind her ear and looked at Blaine with her dark green eyes. Today, her eyes reflected off her military brat tank top. If she wore blue, they would pick up that color. The only time her eyes changed on their own was when she was angry. Then, she’d been told a few times, they flashed gray.
The metallic pen felt solid between her fingers, and she signed her summer away.
White marble tile covered the foyer, and plush burgundy carpet started in the hallways. The school grounds lay beyond closed doors. Although she’d been through the interview process, Mandi hadn’t seen what lay beyond those locked doors. No one did until the first day. She wondered what mysteries and adventures lay ahead. Once she entered through those doors, there was no leaving for the three months of summer. Her friends and family thought she was backpacking abroad. If they only knew…
“Well, it seems as if all your paperwork is in order,” Blaine said. “Are you ready to start your instruction at Sex U. Ms. Wilkinson?”
Mandi took a deep breath. She couldn’t change her mind now, could she? “I’m as ready as I ever will be.”
“If you’ll follow me, then,” he said directing with his hand. “This way to the antechamber.”
For someone who looked so laid back, Blaine spoke eloquently, almost like an English butler. Rather than leading her forward, through those locked doors, Blaine strolled toward a side door. Amanda picked up her valise and followed him, watching the muscles of his tight butt clench inside his khaki shorts.
The door opened into an immense room filled with many other doors.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take that,” Blaine said as he grabbed her bag. “No personal items are allowed in the university.”
“But my clothes …”
“Everything you need will be provided.”
“I have a journal and pen in there that I would like.”
“I’m sorry, but nothing is allowed in. Anything can be used to masturbate with, and at SFSU, that is not permitted. Our inspectors will look through your bag and if there is anything they deem fit for entrance, it will be delivered to your cabin. Now, if you would,” Blaine said as he gestured her into room 27. Mandi looked longingly at her bag as Blaine placed it on a rolling rack outside the room. Inside, she knew, was her favorite soft lavender socks, a book of inspirational quotes and the chai spice tea she enjoyed savoring in the morning. She had to give up everything.
She was to remove all of her clothes and place them into a hamper.
“Sit tight until you hear the bell ring, then go through the second door and your lessons will begin.”
Amanda slid into the dressing room. She’d been there less than fifteen minutes, and she was already starting to feel nervous. How would she survive the summer, let alone the rest of the day? No luggage, and now she had to strip naked. She didn’t remember reading about this in the school catalog. She pulled off her skirt, slid her black lace g-string over the rounded curve of her butt, and placed it on top of her skirt. Then came her tank top and matching green bra. What was the use of packing all those sexy undergarments if she wasn’t going to be able to wear them? Once finished, she looked around for the hamper that Blaine mentioned. She found a laundry bag marked 27 and a shoot in the wall. She pulled the handle and looked down. From the looks of things, she wouldn’t be getting these clothes back any time soon. The room held one small bench with a green cushion. She might as well sit down while she waited.
She crossed her arms over her erect nipples. Since it wasn’t cold, it must be the anticipation, she thought. Her nervousness began to disperse. Instead, excitement replaced it. Moistness dampened the silky hair between her legs. This was going to be good.
A bell disrupted her thoughts. It was time. Amanda opened the door, ready to take on whatever came next, and found herself in a room full of other people.
Correction: other naked people.
Men and women burst out of the rooms like horses at a race, only to find themselves reined in. A petite blonde girl stood next to her, looking even more timid than Amanda felt. A tall, dark-haired man with stark almond-colored skin could be seen towering above the others on the other side of the room. A small Asian woman turned in circles, as if searching for a familiar face. And then the whistle shrilled. The sea of bare butts parted to reveal a mammoth woman with striking red hair; beside her stood another man who looked to be Blaine’s twin.
“All right everybody, that’s enough. You’ll have plenty of time to gawk at each other,” she said. “It’s time to get the first lesson started. I am Lucille, the headmistress of San Francisco Sex University, and what I say, you do.
“Now, everyone get into formation. Ten lines of five. Right now. On the double.”
Amanda fell into line. The pale blonde woman stepped in front of her. As easily as elementary school children, they lined up equally spaced apart, shoulders back, chests out and faces forward. Amanda stole a glance to her right, and then to her left. Some men could obviously not hide their excitement, and a particular dark-skinned man to the left of her looked to have something to be excited about. Others were clearly intimidated by the situation and were not rising to the occasion.
The last guy in the line to the right of her seemed to be crowding the guy in front of him. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. There were six in that row. Try as he might, he couldn’t line up.
“You there,” the Lucy Amazon said, getting down off her box. “Can’t you count? Do you plan on flunking out on your first day? In your first hour?”
The woman strutted down the aisle, all the more noticeable in her clothes. It wasn’t merely the fact that she was wearing something alluring; it was the fact that she was wearing something in this room filled with stripped-down bodies. Black four-inch thigh-high boots made her even taller. As she walked purposefully through the ranks, the floor vibrated with the pulse of her every step. Amanda caught a glimmer of musky vanilla perfume as the woman passed her. Everything about Headmistress Lucy commanded attention. Amanda felt drawn to the woman’s obvious strength and power.
Before she saw it, Amanda heard the smack of leather hitting bare flesh. The man yelped in surprise.
“Everyone remain facing forward,” Lucy said. “What is your name?”
“Raul.”
“Raul what?”
“Raul Montgomery.”
Smack.
“No, Raul, ma’am,” she corrected him.
From the corner of her eye, Mandi soaked in the scene. Raul looked to be of Puerto Rican and European descent, perhaps German. He wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was not much taller than Amanda herself. Smooth, light brown skin helped accent his chiseled chest. As he fought to keep his machismo, tears threatened to escape from behind his long black eyelashes.
“Raul, ma’am.”
“And I thought I said to get into lines of five.”
“Yes, ma’am. Five”
“And how many are in your line here? Count them.”
Raul leaned his head out. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” His eyes grew wider at “six.”
“And that’s exactly how many strikes you will get with my lash. Place your hands on the student in front of you, steady yourself, and lean over.”
And then the spanking began. With every strike, Amanda could feel her own cheeks grow hotter; her face flushed with embarrassment. She could never endure being humiliated, being spanked, in front of an entire class, or in back of the class, for that matter. By the fourth smack, Raul began to whimper, and on the sixth, he wailed: Machismo gone.
“Now go get in that line down there that only has four students in it. And next time, count, don’t follow.”
With that, Lucy walked back up to the front of the classroom. It was time to go over the rules of the school. Amanda had read some of them before entering the university; others were new.
“There are fifty students in this class. About half of you will graduate,” Lucy said. “Ten of you will not make it through the first week. Take a look at your neighbor. They might not be here next week. Only the strong and the dedicated will survive. And, those who can follow orders. Right, Raul?”
“Yes, ma’am,” rang out from the corner of the room.
This time, the Blaine-double spoke.
“My name is Wayne, and by now most of you have met my brother Blaine. There are certain rules that you must follow when you are at Sex U., and if you do not, there will be consequences.”
“First of all, no fraternization amongst the students unless otherwise instructed.”
Lucy emphasized the point, “That means no fucking amongst yourselves. If we want you to fuck – we’ll tell you. And only when we tell you.”
“Yes, right,” Wayne continued. “If you are caught ‘fucking’ another student then you will be punished. At worst, you will be expelled. There’s no masturbation. At Sex U., you are allowed to orgasm only when we tell you.”
What was this? Amanda thought. She had come to Sex U., well in order to come. Not to be made to hold it in until someone else deemed fit.
“No fucking yourself, in other words,” Lucy chimed in. “No vibrators, no dildos, no pens, and ladies – no shower heads. Someone will run your baths while you are here. No slipping the pussy beneath the faucet unless otherwise directed.”
“Exactly,” Wayne agreed. “When an instructor tells you to do something, you will do it. Is that understood?”
Mumbled “yeses” spread through the room.
“Is that understood?” Lucy asked louder.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy reached behind her and pulled on a chord. A bell chimed, and another door opened.
****
Reed McAllister had come to San Francisco Sex University for reasons all his own. He was looking for a woman, the right woman, and so far he didn’t have any leads. He never saw himself working at a place such as SFSU, let alone instructing, but he had to admit it – the job did come with some perks.
Reed stood with the rest of the staff outside the main orientation room. Once the orientation was complete, it would be up to the staff to round up the new students and escort them to their bunks. Then came the interviews, initiations and training. Each candidate had filled out detailed applications with their likes and dislikes, plus the school had done a bit of independent research, a little digging up of dirt. Yet, it would be up to Reed and the other instructors to probe a bit deeper, figure out what made each person tick and, in some cases, what would make them break.
He fiddled with the waistband of his fitted black pants and once again wished for the comfort of a pair of well-worn jeans. After his stint at the school finished, he’d burn these pants and their clones. The thought of his personal Sex U. bonfire made Reed grin.
Jules, a personal trainer who primarily worked on the men’s endurance, caught his expression. “Thinking of all that new flesh awaiting?” she asked.
He’d been privy to more than a few sexual encounters with Jules. Her full Italian lips played havoc with a man’s cock, and she loved to tease the students hard and keep them hard.
Reed pushed away his thoughts and focused on Jules. “Sure, the first day’s always enlightening.” It wasn’t the new candidates that held Reed’s interest. Rather, it was those that had come and gone. His sister Willow, yes, their parents believed in the power of nature, had gone missing from the school a few weeks ago, and Reed was determined to find her. After their parents had died when Reed was 18, and Willow was only 13, Reed had taken it upon himself to officially gain custody of his younger sister and see to her upbringing. It helped that both parents believed in ample life insurance, which left them financially comfortable. With how close they were, there was no way Willow would drop off the face of the earth.
As he walked into the room, Reed consciously pushed thoughts of Willow out of his mind. He glanced over the lines of waiting students. Every class brought more of the same – tight, toned bodies. A plethora of nationalities – kink showed no boundaries. Pretty faces blended into pretty faces. Most expressions reflected fear. A few already possessed a glassed-over look, as if they were already distancing themselves from the events taking place. They wouldn’t last, Reed thought. And then he noticed her.
Something about the woman toward the end of the third row stood out. Perhaps it was her unabashed interest and direct eye contact as he passed. Most students looked down, afraid to meet his gaze. She took it on directly.
He lined up with the other instructors. Reed looked at her a bit more directly, what was it? Average height and build, she stood out from the others. Long curls hung over her shoulders, the hair playing peek-a-boo with her nipples. She held herself with confidence. Her demeanor, Reed thought. She’s different.
Oh, yes. The job definitely came with perks. Over the next few weeks, Reed would make sure that he had this lady.
Once the staff fell into place, Lucy garnered the attention of her captive audience. “Now, I’d like you to meet some more of the staff.” With their black slacks and white shirts, the eight instructors looked like they could be maitre d’s, but highly polished ones.
“Over the next few months, you’ll be getting to know the staff very, very well,” Lucy said with a slight smile that even Mandi could see from a distance.
****
When Mandi was a sophomore in high school, she had her first lesson in the types of repercussions her habit of going to extremes could have. When her parents wouldn’t let her use hair mousse tinted with blue, which would have washed out easily, she bleached her dark hair blonde, shaved off the sides and dyed the tips vibrant blue. Served them right, and her. You know how hard it is to keep up vibrant blue hair? When she showered, streaks of blue ran down her naked toes.
Within a month, she colored her hair back dark and started to grow out the sides. What set out to be a lesson for her parents turned out to be a lesson for her. Funny that she would think of that story now, here, amongst a room full of nude people. Maybe it was because of the woman with the hot pink hair a few rows over. Mandi wondered how the woman would keep up her magnificent, eye-catching color without being allowed to bring in any supplies. When it came to beauty, maybe the staff at Sex U. was a little more lenient. They were, after all, in the business of pleasure.
At the front of the class, Lucy finished introducing the instructors. A tall drink of a man stood out. Something about him reeked of control and domination: self-confidence. Lucy had identified him as Reed. Tall, lanky and muscular, the name Reed fit him perfectly. From where she was standing, Mandi could almost imagine streaking her light fingertips across his strong jawline, and then following it with her tongue. The strength of his arms wrapped around her body, him easily lifting her weight as she slid down onto his awaiting cock.
What was the matter with her, she wondered, fantasizing like that. That is what being in a room full of naked people too long would do to a person. What would she do over the next three months?
“Now, I’m going to have a staff member bring the candidates to your bunkers,” Lucy said. “Take a look at the people standing next to you. Over the next three months, these are the people you’ll be sharing your living quarters with.”
The man behind Lucy looked down at her with a gleeful look in his eye. “Looking forward to getting to know you better, roomie,” he whispered, not so silently. The dorms were not segregated. Mandi thought it would be best if the women bunked with the women and the men with the men, especially if they were not supposed to be having sex. But did that really matter here? Sex was universal, and the act didn’t always reflect the sexual tendencies.
An Asian woman with stark dark hair that sank to her waist walked to the front of Mandi’s line and stood between two rows. She strolled down the aisle, glancing right and then left, as if she was sizing up her wards through her kohl-lined eyes.
“I am Yvette, and I’ll be your master leader the next few months,” she said. “From here on out, you’ll be a part of the Hump’sa tribe.”
A few snickers rang out at this description, and Yvette stopped until the murmurs settled.
“Think of it like Survivor – each tribe joining together, battling each other. Except here, you’ll see the sex unfolding,” she laughed. “Survivors, ready?”
“Yes, ma’am,” a chorus chimed out. Throughout the great hall, Mandi noticed groups filing behind a leader and being escorted out. As he led his group past, Reed glanced at Mandi, and she felt a heat promising more. Her pulse quickened as their eyes met, and just as quickly the moment passed. How was she going to survive?
The students in front of her started to move, and Mandi followed suit. Outside the door, Mandi glimpsed greenery – willowy trees shadowing the pathway; tall, majestic palms reaching toward the heavens; and in the flower bed, a rainbow-colored array of tulips, lilies, pansies, and narcissus. It looked like Disneyland, perfectly manicured and maintained. A Garden of Eden, deep in the heart of San Francisco. Who would have known?
The sun streaking through the foliage warmed Mandi’s body, and the pebbled path soothed her feet as she and her “tribe” walked down the path. She felt partly like a pirate being made to take a plunge into the unknown. She noticed groups being led down small tribune walkways into attractive-looking bungalows topped with thatched roofs. Soon enough, Yvette veered off and waved to the followers like a schoolteacher directing foot traffic.
Beds were lined up inside the housing unit with barriers that reminded Mandi of the cubicles at her last temp job. Except rather than neutral, boring offish colors such as gray and beige, these material-lined walls sparkled turquoise and magenta – vibrant colors that danced in the light streaking through the bay windows. A name was taped to the outside of each living space.
“Find your name,” Yvette said, passing by Mandi, “and settle in. I’ll give you a few moments to relax and catch your breath, and then we’re going to get to know each other a little better with a warming-up exercise.” Something in the way Yvette delivered the news made Mandi think that this introduction exercise was going to be quite a lot different than something she’d play at a bridal shower, or even a bachelorette party.
With ten roommates, the bunker split with five beds on each side, a set of co-ed restrooms at the back and a door labeled “Master.” Mandi guessed that was where Yvette would be sleeping. She continued to walk down the corridor, until she found her name – second from the end of the left. Inside her bedroom, the first thing Mandi did was open the closet – and surprise, surprise, there were clothes in it – lots of them. She checked the label – size 6, her size. She walked over to the multi-colored chest of drawers and pulled it open, running her fingers over the delicate lace and silk undergarments – a plethora of push-up bras in 34C at her disposal. Although the school had confiscated her luggage, they had felt the need to provide each student with an assigned wardrobe.
After checking out the living quarters, Mandi and the others made it back to the meeting room.
“Hello, my name is Sam, and I’m a sex-a-holic,” said the guy who’d leered so obviously at her earlier. Mandi and her bungalow-mates sat in a circle in what could be called a common room. A fire warmed the room, and plush multi-colored pillows added comfort to the floor. So far there were few highlights to the bungalow introductions. Yvette said that she’d been with the school for three years, after originally going through the training there herself. After graduating and losing her virginity on graduation night, Yvette said that she didn’t feel like venturing back out into the “real” world, which for her meant returning to Japan. Instead, she signed on as an intern, worked the front desk a la Blaine for a few months, and eventually proved herself beneath the sheets to move up into an instructor.
“I know what it’s like to be in your position, top and bottom,” Yvette said. “Now, how about you, Clyde?”
Clyde looked like his name – a tall, loopy man, sitting down, his legs overlapped. A bit goofy, yet at the same time there was something appealing to him. Like a giant, oversized horse. Mandi briefly wondered if erect, his penis would rival his namesake.
“Well,” he started out slowly, pushing back the shaggy, sandy colored mane from his forehead. “I come from Ohio, and my father and his father all ran the family farm. I always wanted more than that. Thought about opening up a little neighborhood brothel on the side. I come here to educate myself and see what it takes to get set up.”
“Pretty lofty goals,” Yvette countered. “How about the legalities?”
“Damn, where I come from, if you’re not doing harm to another, they don’t mess with you,” Clyde said. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to raise sex?”
Even with the warmth of the fire, Mandi shivered in the cool early evening air. Her nipples stood at points – “Hey, not that I want to break rules or anything, but are we allowed to wear those clothes in our cubbies?” she interrupted Yvette.
“Of course. What, did you think you were going to walk around completely naked the next three months?” she retorted. A few people in the circle snickered. Sam, for all his sweet talking, looked relieved. “Why don’t we all take a break, get dressed and then I’ll give everyone their first assignments.”
Back in her cube, Mandi once again searched through her new clothing. She decided on a pale pink bustier, which accented her breasts and complemented her skin tone and a pair of black pants with cinches at the waist. After sliding on a pair of pink and black sling backs, Mandi re-joined the others in the makeshift meeting center. Yvette seemed to be consulting a notepad with those already in attendance. Next, she hit up Mandi.
“So, I see you’re going to your first fitting this evening?”
Something in the way Yvette said those simple words made Mandi feel instantaneously nervous. “Fitting, what type of fitting?”
“Oh, this one is in line with your application,” Yvette said. As she walked by to the next candidate, Yvette lightly brushed the mounds of Mandi’s ass. “You’ll need to be at the Sunset Room by 5:30 p.m.,” Yvette added, handing her a map of the complex.
It was already 4:30 p.m. and Mandi had no idea where to find the Sunset Room. From the looks of the map, it was almost clear across the campus – she’d have a hike, and she better get started.
Clarissa, the sweet-faced Italian blonde who took the cube next to Mandi, was instructed to go to the Equipment Room to pick out her “tools of torture.” Always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, Mandi thought, always the quiet ones.