(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including male and female chastity, anal toys, fellatio, and vaginal sex. This story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is effectively impossible, but this installment focuses on an especially enthusiastic coupling. All characters are 18 or older. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)
***
Kristen and Zach had a whole training room to themselves for their sanctioned tutoring session. The wall panels surrounding them held a complete arsenal, not only of the disciplinary implements they were here to study, but also the pleasure implements they would not begin working with until next semester.
Being left unsupervised in a room full of so many possibilities would have been an almost unbearable distraction, were it not for their secure chastity devices.
They were sitting on opposite sides of a steel table, just like those found in the visitor rooms, but unlike a real session in one of those rooms, there was no possibility of buying a release here.
As trainees, neither of them had the authority to unlock the other, and in any case, both were still serving their mandatory three-month deprivation, to prove their fortitude and enhance their empathy as future pleasure control officers.
"What are the three key indications for anal discipline?" Kristen quizzed Zach, from a list on her glowing tablet screen. She bit absently into one of the plain wheat crackers they'd brought to snack on, while she waited for his answer.
Zach covered his own screen and closed his eyes to think. He was a tiny thing, nineteen years old, just like Kristen, with East Asian features and flexibility enough to pull his heels up in front of him on the small seat of his steel folding chair. He did this now, and buried his face effortlessly in his bony knees.
"Delusions of superiority," he listed, "lack of orgasm-driven motivation, and... uh... fuck..."
He slammed his forehead harder against his knees.
"Hey."
Kristen reached across the table to put her hand on one of them, hoping he wouldn't crush that with his forehead too. He didn't.
"Breathe," she reminded him. "You know this."
"I don't."
"Not when you're panicking," Kristen agreed. "Take your time. There's no penalty for getting it wrong here."
Zach took a long breath in and out. His stress-tightened voice dropped lower afterward.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked.
"I told you why," said Kristen.
"You told me why in front of Professor Lawrence and a full classroom," Zach said, meeting her eyes over his knees. "I'm asking you here."
"I meant what I said there," said Kristen. "It's not some deep dark secret."
"You just like helping people," Zach summed up. "More than kicking them when they're down. Or looking away."
"Something like that," Kristen agreed. "So, the
third
indication for anal discipline is...."
Zach took one more breath, leaning his head back.
"Choice!" he exclaimed sitting back upright. "When a subject chooses it from an allowed list of alternatives."
"Exactly!" Kristen confirmed. "See, you
are
learning. You just need to be patient with yourself."
"It's a little harder when the person standing over you has a whip," Zach gazed across the table at her. "Seriously, how do you always manage to keep it together in this hellhole?"
"Well, it helps that this 'hellhole' is my best chance to live as more than a helpless subject," said Kristen. "Isn't that why you're here too?"
"Sure, you could say that." Zach scoffed. "But I didn't mean Bureau headquarters. I meant the world."
Kristen let out a heavy breath. The world was a bit bigger than what she was willing to take on today.
"You wake up in that thing every day," Zach nodded downward toward her device, under the table. "Knowing there's no escape, even if you run. Knowing that any scrap of mercy you might get depends on being perfect, not making mistakes. How can you keep
facing
that? Let alone risk fucking with it to help someone else?"
Kristen shrugged. "Trying to be perfect is just habit. And the risks... I don't usually think about there being another option until it's over. Most of the time, I'm running on instinct."
"So, basically, your instincts are just better than mine," Zach sighed, hugging his legs in front of him.
"Hey," said Kristen, more sharply. "Don't talk that way about my student." She smiled. "Anyway, it's not true. Your instincts are fine when you're not beating yourself up."
"So, you think I've got it in me to go on?" Zach asked.
"Of course," Kristen said firmly.
"If you didn't, would you tell me?" Zach's eyes were dry when he asked this, and unsettlingly steady.
Kristen considered him for a moment. "Why do I get the feeling
I'm
the one being quizzed now?"
"If you thought I was someone who couldn't hack living like this," Zach persisted, "someone doomed to crack under Bureau deprivation, would you think I deserved to live some other way? Some softer way?"
"Zach...." Kristen swallowed, buying time to concoct an answer that never came together. "We should really get to tactile review now."
Zach bit his lip and dragged himself to his feet.
He hiked up his white trainee tunic, clasped his hands behind his head, and bent over the table lengthwise, giving Kristen access to his ass.
"Ready when you are," he sighed.
Kristen went to gather the implements from the last in-class quiz, the one Zach had broken down during.
She started with the anal hook he had been asked to identify, the one Kristen had then been forced to wear for the rest of the day. That had been nearly two weeks ago now, and she still found herself sitting unnaturally straight, forgetting that it was gone.
"I'll be gentle," Kristen promised, spreading on the lubricant.
"I know you will," Zach said with simple, almost eerie confidence. It was nothing like how he sounded in class.
Kristen lined up the bead on the end of the hook, and no sooner had she begun to penetrate him than he said, "Anal hook three."
"You got it," said Kristen, pulling it out.
"It wasn't exactly unpredictable this time," said Zach.
"Can you just let yourself have the win?" Kristen scolded. "Okay, how about this one?"
She lubricated and lined up a mid-sized dildo that could be used for both discipline and purchased stimulation. The desirability of its effects depended on the subject's tastes and, especially, on their freedom to orgasm during the application.
"Dildo seven," Zach identified it almost as soon as she pushed it in.
"And how do you know that?" Kristen asked him.
"It's a dildo because it's a straight line and doesn't taper down from its widest part like a plug. By the temperature, it's steel, there's no texturization beyond the head, and number seven is the smallest size that fits those criteria. And
you
