Pearl Jones - The Schooling of Carolyn

It didn't look like a pit. Carolyn had expected something … seedier. A run-down old hotel, perhaps, with women leaning out from the windows. Or maybe a half-converted jail. Even one of those tastelessly ostentatious modern buildings. Not this. The Academy looked like a very expensive resort; high in the mountains, far from the modern world. Stone walls bordered the manicured grounds, and the limousine drove for what seemed like miles after passing through high wrought-iron gates.

She spent the ride wondering what she had done. What she'd gotten herself into. It had all seemed reasonable enough the night before-seen through the bottom of a shot-glass, shock and orgasm as intoxicating as the drink. But now, alone in the back of a limo, far from the only town, the only life she'd ever known, it seemed completely insane. Surreal.

Discipline .

The stranger who had told her of the Academy had whispered it, and it was embossed on the thick rag-bond card she'd been given. The driver had murmured it just before closing the car door. Discipline.

What kind of discipline?

Sexual, surely, given the things that odd woman had said and done. But what did that mean? Did I sell myself into some kind of sex slavery? Damn, I don't even know if this place is co-ed! That woman, last night, she didn't say. And why didn't she come get me herself? What's with the stretch? And the driver? What's going to happen to me?

Her head hurt, and all the questions boiling in her skull didn't help. Hung over, and not for the first time. Fine; she could handle that. She'd had a lot of experience over the past few months. Hangovers were just the price she paid for drinking, and they were still better than the nothingness she drank to escape. Had drunk to escape. Until last night, when a stranger had offered her something better.

Maybe … She shook her head. No point to wondering what would happen; the limo was nearing the end of the drive. All she had to do was get out of the car, and she would see what was to be seen. Or not. I could go home. Just forget about all this.

Go back? To what?

Carolyn dug the card out of her pocket and traced the single word. She licked her lips, remembering the strange events of the night before, the stranger's whispered words echoing off tile as they echoed now in memory.

"This is your entry visa,” the woman had said while Carolyn still reeled. “And the key to your success.” And she had smiled like a snake, her tongue darting out to trace her lips.

What had she meant by that? And why isn't she here? Not that they were friends or anything; Carolyn didn't even know the woman's name. It was simply that she was lonely, and frightened. And wet. She spread her legs a bit, embarrassed by the thought, the fact, frustrated. If she hadn't worried about the driver seeing, she might have tried to give herself some relief, but she'd never been very good at that. Maybe they'll-whoever runs this place-maybe they can teach me how to do something about it. Oh, God, I'd give anything for that.

The car pulled up at last by a sprawling stone manse, and the driver came around to open the door for her. Carolyn blinked, for the driver was very differently dressed than she had been before, wearing a driver's cap but little else on her lithe small form: A short vest that pushed her breasts forward, offering them to the world. A skirt so short it didn't deserve the name. High-heeled shoes with dainty straps around the ankles. And a choker with a tiny gold lock holding it closed. When she'd arrived at Carolyn's, she'd worn a duster that had covered her as well as a nun's habit. Had this been beneath it all the while?

Why would anyone dress that way? Hookers don't show that much skin! And that necklace…

Discipline?

Carolyn shrank back into the seat.

The driver waited, patient and placid, holding the door open until Carolyn gathered her courage and ventured forth. Cap doffed, she led the way inside to a room out of a British drama, old glowing wood and leather and polished brass. A shallow bow seemed to suggest that Carolyn might sit.

She chose a chair. When next she looked around, the driver had gone. She looked around the room, waiting for whatever came next. And trying not to scream from nerves. What am I doing here? I don't fit! This place, this isn't for someone like me. She swallowed, trying to remember what she had been told. A place to learn, for people whose needs were different. And that word, that one word. Discipline.

Right. Try to stay calm. Like that boy with the fox. Oh, I wish I hadn't thought that. For some reason, her mind flashed on the stranger's fingernails. Her body responded with a flood of wetness. Oh, God.

She was using her hands to fan her cheeks when the door opened, and three impossibly beautiful beings walked into the room. Two men, one woman, they shone with wealth, with success. The looked like the kind of people on television. Glossy. Important. Privileged. Carolyn looked down at her shoes, embarrassed by their lack of polish, feeling awkward and frumpled and fat and perfectly out of place. She darted a glance up through her lashes, wanting to stare, but not to be seen. The woman met her eyes, smiling, wise and kind. Carolyn felt her cheeks heat even more but raised her head, and the men each offered a brief nod.

There are some men here, at least. That's a relief. She didn't bother to ask herself why. And they were gorgeous, too. So was the woman. And the driver. And the stranger. All of them, good-looking and polished. Unlike me. She looked at her shoes again, run down and scuffed and probably years out of style, if they'd ever been in style to begin with.

"Tell us why you are here,” the woman commanded. Her voice was soft, but it was firm, as well. Carolyn couldn't look at any of them while she spoke, but she forced herself to answer, stammering out a confused tale of the woman in the bar. Her offer. Her demonstration. The climax-not Carolyn's first, but one of few, and the strongest. How different the world seemed, now, how much more it had to offer. How she yearned.

"Why are you here?” The woman's voice was almost a caress.

"To learn,” Carolyn whispered. “To … feel.” She licked her lips. “She said-she said you could give me ‘sensations beyond belief.'” She blinked back tears, desperate and afraid, clutching her hands to still their shaking. Her palms were damp; not the only moisture she could feel. She swallowed, trying not to squirm in the leather chair. What if they don't take me? What might happen then? What happened if they did, what would they ask of her? “Sensations beyond belief.” She said it like a prayer.

One of the men spoke. “Stand up and remove your clothing."

She gaped, shook her head. Surely she had misheard? But the woman raised one elegantly curved brow, and she knew she had heard the command.

Do I obey? What if I don't? Is this some test? The only answer she could find was in the woman's eyes. They demanded obedience, and she found herself on her feet, undoing buttons even as she asked herself what she thought she was doing. Her cheeks were hot, her hands shook, her breath caught in her throat, but she obeyed. In far too little time for her comfort, she stood exposed, naked but for the blush crawling down her neck toward her breasts.

"Turn,” the man said, and she did, not even thinking to resist. Her mind was still busy wondering how she had come to where she was. “Bend.” “Raise your arms.” “Open your mouth.” She did what she was told.