It was another day at the St. Margaret's Academy for Wayward Girls, and having just finished their morning inspection, the twenty or so girls of Mr. Wilson's eighteen year old class slowly let their skirts fall back down into place. Then, with their faces burning bright red from the lingering humiliation, they turned to walk back to their desks. In between the silence of the room and the chatter of their chairs, not a single sound could be heard as they turned to face the board again at the front of the class.
Their embarrassment was far from unusual. Masturbation was strictly forbidden at the academy, and even the slightest hint of arousal was enough to warrant a trip down to the headmaster's office with a pink slip in hand. Thus, every day before the bell rang, they had little choice but to stand there with their uniforms lifted upwards as Mr. Wilson checked them between their legs. Reaching down to pull the fabric of their underwear aside, he would slowly trace his fingers over the sensitive folds of their labia as he examined their clits. Then, spreading them apart with his hands, he would tease them to the very brink of a climax before stopping to punish those who failed to hold themselves back from the edge.
A soft touch here, a light stroke there, for most of the girls who had gone nearly an entire semester now without an orgasm, the constant stimulation was almost unbearable as they struggled against the frustration of not being allowed to finish. The feeling only grew worse as Mr. Wilson slid his finger up into their tunnels to see if they were wet. With the tip curled up against their g-spots, it took them nearly everything they had to stop themselves from clenching down within.
Today though, the class was quite fortunate as the inspection finished on time without any incidents. Aside from a few short reprimands, most of the students made it through after only a single round of edging with only a couple being called up to the front of the class. Bent over at the waist with their bottoms lit up in a freshly spanked shade of red, they slowly wiped their tears away as they returned to their desks.
"Any questions before we begin?" asked Mr. Wilson.
"No, sir," came the reply.
"Good," said Mr. Wilson, "Then let's start from where we left off last time."
There was a flurry of motion as the girls rushed to obey. Pulling their textbooks from out of their bags, they opened the thick volumes up to the appropriate page. There was a test coming up soon, and none of them wanted to end up scoring in the bottom half of the class. The large wooden paddle hanging up above the doorway served as a constant reminder of what would happen to those who failed to pass.
As they moved to take their school supplies out, however, the students couldn't help but blush every time their bottoms made contact with their chairs. Two small bumps, each around an inch in size were carved into the smooth wooden surface, and every time they sat down the knobs were arranged in just the right way to press up against their privates and their anus. The padding of their skirts helped a little, but even through the protective layer of their panties the stimulation was always just enough to keep them constantly on edge. It was an unusual form of discipline, but one that worked wonders at preventing them from falling asleep during class.
An uncomfortable look passed throughout the room as the girls shifted awkwardly in their seats. Eventually, however, it grew silent again as they opened up their notebooks and waited for the lesson to begin. A few continued to keep their legs pressed together, but besides the constant pressure of the two knobs as they pushed up against their most intimate places from underneath, the torment paled in comparison to what they knew was coming next.
From the front of the room, Mr. Wilson turned to face the class.
"Now," he said, a smile on his face, "Would anyone like to volunteer to read?"
Not a single student dared to raise their hand. Of course, that was to be expected. Smiling to himself, Mr. Wilson pointed towards one of the girls at random.
"Adhira Nayak," he smiled, "Always so eager, aren't you?"
Caught by surprise, Adhira looked up from behind her desk. An exchange student, the softly burnt features of her skin stood out in sharp contrast to the hazelnut color of her eyes and her hair. Briefly, her eyes widened at the suddenness of having been selected. Like a stone sinking into the ocean, she slowly picked up her textbook and walked forward towards the front of the class.
It was a common enough procedure that most of the girls there had gone through it at least once, but the tension of the room still seemed to remain. As the rest of the class looked on in sympathy, Adhira slowly lifted her skirt up and tucked it to the side. Then, reaching down with her hands, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties and lowered them to her knees. Fully shaven, there was nothing for her to hide behind, and she blushed even harder as the shape of her privates stood out for everyone to see. Spreading her legs until they were shoulder width apart, she slowly began to read.
"On... on the French Revolution," she read, "In 1788, the Estates General was convened to address the state of the nation, but the Third Estate, ah... that's the common people, they wanted a vote for every member of the assembly. However..."
Adhira trailed off, her face turning bright red in embarrassment as her hands trembled across the page. The reason for the break, however, was more than just because of the way her panties were stretched out between her legs with her body on display. If it was just that, then she could have simply put up with the shame, but the cause of her discomfort came from a different direction entirely.
Walking up to stand behind her as she read, Mr. Wilson wrapped his arms around her sides as he reached up to towards her chest. Then, tracing his hands over the think material of her uniform, he slowly began to massage her breasts. They were hardly anything more than B-cups, tiny little cones rising up from her chest, but the results were still the same. Biting down on her lips, Adhira tried her best to ignore the feeling of his fingers as they ran over her skin.
"However, the First and Second Estate, that is the nobility and the clergy, didn't approve of their plan and they were unable to come to an agreement," she read, "In response the king, Louis XVI, summoned the nobility to Versailles but..."
Mr. Wilson slid his hands underneath the bottom of her shirt, and the stimulation only grew stronger from there. Sliding about her front, his fingers found the ends of her nipples and she gasped as he began to slowly play with the tips. Already, she could feel her eyes starting to wander as her clit grew stiff again from her legs. Having just been brought to the brink of orgasm a few minutes prior, it was getting harder and harder to focus now as she continued to read off the page.
"Finally, with no other solution present, the Third Estate declared themselves the National Assembly, and attacked the king's palace, after which he was forced to recognize them," read Adhira.
Stopping at the end of the page, she paused as she held her breath.
"Very good," said Mr. Wilson, "And could you tell us what caused this upheaval?"
"Taxes...," said Adhira hesitantly, "The people were angry at the lack of representation."
"And anything else?" asked Mr. Wilson.
Adhira bit down on her lips as she tried to think.
"Inequality?" she said.
It was more of a random guess than an actual answer, and she closed her eyes as she prepared herself for the worst. To her surprise, however, Mr. Wilson only seemed to smile at her instead.
"Well done," he said, "Congratulations on your golden star."
Blushing, Adhira reached into her pocket for her points card. Marked upon it was a grid of one hundred blank spaces, and taking it from her, Mr. Wilson drew a mark onto one of the squares. Handing the card back to her, he gave her a pat on the head.
"T... thank you," stuttered Adhira.
Since masturbation was strictly forbidden at the St. Margaret's Academy for Wayward Girls, an alternative form of relief was needed. Thus, at the beginning of every semester, each student was given a small card to keep track of their performance in class. Answer a question correctly, and a golden star would be given out as a reward. Get it wrong, however, and five would be taken away. For those who went into the negatives, their cards would be confiscated and torn up.
Students who earned fifty or more points at the end of the year would be allowed sixty seconds to touch themselves, but still not allowed to cum. Seventy-five points, however, would earn them a ruined orgasm at the fingers of a teacher. Ninety points allowed them to replace the fingers with a vibrator for the last fifteen seconds prior to their ruined orgasm, and one hundred points earned them five whole minutes with the vibrator taped to their clits. Of course, orgasms not claimed within the allocated time were naturally considered forfeit.
Thus, for Adhira who had just earned her sixty-seventh point, this brought her one step closer to her next release. The triumph of her success was made just a little less cheerful, however, as Mr. Wilson reached down again between her legs. Running his hands over the soft folds of her lips, he traced a short circle around the opening of her entrance before using his fingers to draw back the hood of her clit. A soft tap against the delicate organ peering out from underneath, and the entire world seemed to tilt out from underneath her as a spark of electricity shot up into her head.
"So stiff," he said, "How long has it been since your last orgasm?"
The question was all but redundant, given that the students were only allowed a single climax per semester. Adhira whimpered as he slowly rubbed around the edges of her lips, dragging her back up towards the peak even as her walls clenched down again upon the frustration within. Spreading her feet even further apart, she desperately tried to think of anything else to distract herself from getting wet. The last thing she needed now was a detention, especially not when she was already so close to the end.
"How do you do it," said Mr. Wilson, "How do you manage to stay dry every time?"
Another stroke, and Adhira struggled to stay upright as her legs threatened to give out.
