The discovery of the buried and hidden cities and artifacts from the ancient sunken continent of Lemuria marked a sea change in 21st century science, history, and civilization. Expeditions into the Antarctic wastes, the undersea ruins, and the massive pockets of air hidden deep in the earth where the advanced, pre-human civilization retreated to (before vanishing entirely) have only just started--but already they have yielded bizarre and disturbing relics, objects of an advanced, inhuman technology, and copious pictograms and wall carvings and documents depicting a society with intense sexual and social domination. As the world tries to cope with, and understand these new discoveries, the cultural norms and behaviors have begun to shift rapidly towards what it appears Earth's first intelligent inhabitants (who for the most part appear very much like humans) engaged in.
This is nothing to say of the sometimes disturbing finds that the barest exploration into these newly uncovered realms have brought back.
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Student Apartments - Hamilton College, KY -- Ami
Ami Parlan stood at the sink of her efficiency kitchen doing the dishes that had been neglected for two days before dinner. She was going to have to eat standing up after having received an awful, humiliating, and unprecedented spanking at the hands of her college counselor. The man had discussed her academics and lightly scolded her that she could--and would--do better in her studies. Then, he explained he felt he needed to drive the point home with her and had conducted her over his lap after unbuttoning her jeans.
At 21 years old, Ami had laid over in a paroxysm of humiliation and crushed indignation. When he drew her panties down, she had gasped and, more embarrassingly, whimpered. He'd given her 21 swats with his hand on her bare bottom and despite her gritted teeth, she had teared up and the tears had run down her cheeks. Her hair dangled, and she gasped with each swat.
For an ENDLESS 21 minutes, she'd sniffled and even whimpered in the corner with her hands on her head and her pants and panties pooled at her ankles. He'd worked on something only glancing at her once in a while. He'd then announced her punishment was done and even given her a hug. She'd hated the flow of tears that came again--but when he'd released her, she'd felt chastised and embarrassed and slightly adrift in a not-unpleasant way.
She'd rushed to the bathroom for a long cry, seated on one of the toilets.
It was the third time she'd been spanked that week. She didn't have any idea WHAT was going on--but a terrible incident in her Comparative History's TA's office where she'd, for some stupid reason, argued a fairly meaningless quiz-grade and raised her voice to yell at the boy. He'd responded with an abrupt standing (she'd gone silent) and then bent her over the desk--she'd been too shocked to resist and had gone quietly.
He left her pants up--but used a surprisingly solid ruler to give her six good hard smacks over her seat. She'd let out a tiny cry at the last one and he'd stood her back up and asked if she wanted to continue in a more normal tone of voice. She'd shaken her head, wiped miserably at a tear, and excused herself.
It had started with Ms. Watson at the Cafe where she worked highly part time. She'd argued with a customer. It had been dumb, even for her. She'd messed up their order and, on reflection it was her fault--but the woman had been a little snotty about it and Ami had credited her accent with the cause of the mistake.
Ms. Watson had intervene before things could get fully out of control--but had marched her back to the office, folded her arms, and ordered Ami to remove her pants and panties entirely, watched her fold them, and then bent her over the desk. Ami had been quivering with tears and rage--but she'd done as ordered, Ms. Watson's calm tone of voice seemed to brook no argument. When the older woman had lightly spread her cheeks to examine her anus she had held her breath, shaking. Ms. Watson took a look and, in an immolating humiliation, a sniff of her panties and told her to spend more effort on hygiene. Then she had used a hairbrush to provide something like 30 sound smacks that left Ami actually sobbing.
She'd spent five minutes still bare, on her knees in the corner and then was made to go out, red eyed and apologize to the customer, who seemed smug and well pleased. Rather than being fired, which she felt sure was coming, she'd just been sent back to work. It was an awful day even as nothing else went wrong and she felt Ms. Watson watching her--but no real ire from the woman.
She still couldn't quite grasp what was going on--but disturbingly, she did realize that after every incident of discipline she had been desperate to get to privacy so she could ease the urgency in her sex. She had ended the sessions, wet, aroused, and her nipples and clitoris both stiff and erect. Thinking on it at night, in bed, rather than being tormented with shame (there was some of that) she had put a hand down under her night shorts and worked herself for long, long minutes until she fell asleep. She'd never been especially good at masturbation--but apparently being spanked really "did it" for her.
It was, frankly, appalling.
The last session, in her counselor's office, hadn't even been especially harsh. The soreness in her buttocks wasn't even truly unpleasant at this point she could have sat--but her chairs were all unpadded wood and sitting on them seemed to amplify the sensation enough that her first attempt had sent her rushing to the bathroom to sit on the toilet spread-legged and touch herself: something she absolutely hated.
Now, so long as the "afterglow" or whatever stupid thing you called it, was present, she wouldn't sit on a hard surface unless she absolutely had to. She could've brought a pillow in--but that just seemed pathetic.
She had put the plate on the drying rack when someone, unexpectedly, knocked at the door.
Ami made her way over and opened the door, startling at the wretched looking girl standing in her doorway.
"Tessa?" she asked, eyes wide--the poor thing looked like she was beside herself. Her eyes were red and she was literally squirming with discomfort--emotional and.... physical. Tessa was two doors down. One of the four apartments on this floor. The two knew each other in passing but not extremely well. Tessa had been very welcoming to Ami when she had moved in, and Ami had liked her.
"I--I--h-have something to ask you," Tessa started. Her face blazed with blush, her hair hung around her face. She was a cute girl, shorter than Ami and she looked like she was going to go to pieces any moment.
Ami reached out, took her arm and brought her in.
"What is it, Tessa? What happened?"
Inside the apartment, when the door shut, the girl sobbed into a wet handkerchief. Ami quickly replaced it with a clean one and steered her to the sofa.
"Can you tell me?" She was concerned--but there was something... somehow fetching? That surely wasn't the right word, was it? Something that made her think Tessa was far more embarrassed than traumatized.She tried another tact.
"Tessa," she said putting a little more sternness into her voice. "Out with it--what happened, hon?" She felt a flash of worry that being more forceful with the girl might be a mistake but it worked.
"I have to ask you something really embarrassing," Tessa said softly. "It's--Evan--my boyfriend--sent me to come ask you." She looked down, clearly mortified.
Ami felt herself relax. "You can ask me," she assured Tessa. It's fine--it's okay--come on, sit down. Do you want some tea?"
Tessa shook her head--she stepped towards the sofa and then let out a shuddering sigh.
"I can't sit," she sniffled in a more normal tone of voice. Ami watched her raise the back of her skirt. She was bare under it and her buttocks, nice and full, were marked with four pink lines and the start of light bruising.
Ami felt her breath hitch. Tessa, still not meeting her eyes, held out a bottle of some kind of lotion. "Evan punished me," she said thickly. "He's cooking dinner for us. He told me to ask you to p-put the lotion on--" She looked up, clearly caught in a blizzard of shame.
"I'm sorry to ask it," she said suddenly. "I begged him not to make me--but he s-said it would be okay--I'm sorry--it's not your--"
Ami cut her off. "It's FINE, Tess," she said. "I'll put the lotion on--come on--over to my bed. It's okay, really."
In truth, Ami's head was spinning and shifting off true as she led Tessa to her room. It really WAS fine. She didn't mind applying the antiseptic lotion to the girl's bottom. In fact, she was, to be honest, excited by it--but how--how was this even happening?? She watched Tessa slip out of her shoes and lay face down on the bed, trying her hardest not to cry into the pillow. Her hair pooled out around her head and Ami took a seat behind her and surveyed the damage. She couldn't miss the strong smell of... musk. The scent of female arousal from the shadows below the girl's cleft. The front of the skirt might absorb the female oil--but it might also stain the bed-clothes. The girl was as horribly aroused as Ami had ever seen. What was going on??
She looked at the lotion. It was a packaged 'aftercare' lotion with 'Arnica and Chamomile.' It was designed to minimize inflammation and skin coloring. She took an exploratory sniff of it. It smelled nice. She squeezed a little onto her fingers. She looked again at the buttocks. The marks were even, the pink welting didn't look too bad. Around the lines the bruising was also mild looking--but both buttocks were swollen and she imagined it quite hurt.