Breaking Abigail (18 page)

Abigail hoped she had misunderstood. “You mean, peeing while someone is watching? Please say you don’t mean that.”

“Yup. Sorry. You’d better go ahead. I’ve already had to do it with Master J watching me and teaching me how to make it look submissive. At least I won’t do that to you.”

“Oh, God,” Abigail breathed. How could one pee submissively? The question formed, and then, with yet another blush, Abigail realized that she knew exactly how, and now she would have to do everything in her power to keep from showing Zoe that she knew. Her bladder seemed fuller by the second, the more she looked at the toilets, hesitating.

Finally, unable to bear either the need to pee or the images of herself—and, to her dismay, of Zoe—peeing out of her head, she strode to the middle of the three toilets, raised the lid, turned, and, holding up her nightgown, sat on it. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to see Zoe watching, and blushed harder as she heard the private sound of her pee rushing from her private parts and hitting the bowl.

Afterward, Zoe led her downstairs again. In the day room, four more girls were waiting—one of them, Victoria, in pink. Victoria evidently saw the look of concern in Abigail’s eyes at the color she was wearing. She gave a wry smile and said, “Didn’t kneel quite fast enough.”

“Oo, what did you get?” said Zoe with envy in her voice.

“Twelve with the cane—plus six extra for hands.” She turned and raised her nightgown to show the wicked red stripes—and she was plugged, too: at the sight of the black rubber base peeping out between Victoria’s little punished bottom-cheeks, Abigail gave a gasp.

“Oh, the plug?” Victoria said. “Well, Master J says my owner wants me plugged between lunch and dinner every day.”

“Why?” Abigail whispered.

“Master J says he loves anal, and he wants me to be ready to take him there.”

“Do you… do you like… it?” Abigail could barely speak the words, as oblique as they were.

Victoria giggled. “Well, yes. But even a volunteer mustn’t admit that, Miss Anne-Marie says. My owner especially likes shows of reluctance, she says.”

Then Beatrice said, “I’m Beatrice, and this is Julie, and this is Penny. We’re so glad you’re here.” Beatrice was a blond, blue-eyed angel, tall and willowy. Julie was a tiny black-haired girl with very fair skin and an impish expression in her brown eyes. Penny had long wavy chestnut hair and a kind expression in her light brown eyes. Abigail shook hands with them, thinking that they all seemed very intelligent and very poised.

“Alright,” said Zoe. “They don’t call me hall girl for nothing. Let’s get going, girls. It’s time to show Abigail the pool and the movie theater, don’t you think?”

Chapter Eighteen

Anne-Marie watched the girls take off their nightgowns and jump in the enormous swimming pool with a mixture of arousal and a sort of affectionate, strangely anticipatory nostalgia. Her girls seemed to get along wonderfully. Anne-Marie couldn’t help thinking of them as her girls, though she tried hard to avoid it, knowing that it would not be many years before she would have to surrender her job to a younger woman and pass on into an executive bliss that could even so never match what she felt right now.

They had built the control room here at the Institute with grandiose plans of expansion in mind: Anne-Marie, Brian, and the assessors who were there currently barely took up a single one of the four stations. Each station had a bank of monitors, an assessor’s desk and a director’s desk above it, with a central station filled with computer equipment where no one had yet even stepped. They were two floors down from the foyer: under the old basement of the house they had dug, very deep, a new one for the operational facility that included the control room and enough office space to hold a staff of at least 100, of whom only ten currently existed.

Also, emergency living quarters for the girls if any law-enforcement issues should arise. The Institute’s lawyers were scrupulous, and all its practices were entirely within the law, but people could be excitable if they caught sight of naked girls being whipped on a lawn. Anne-Marie and Jean were sure they had found a spot where the likelihood of that kind of thing was exceedingly small, but they had also decided to plan for every possible eventuality.

Brian was looking through the day’s data on a heap of computer paper fresh from the printer that always seemed to be making its menacing sound as it fed the hunger he, Jean, and the assessors couldn’t ever seem to quench for more numbers to analyze. Violet and Heidi, the assessors on duty, were looking at their own, slightly older printouts (Brian and Jean always had dibs on the new data) while keeping an occasional eye on the monitors. Having all the girls together in the pool meant that the assessors’ job was much easier than usual for the moment.

“What do you think, for her first class with me?” she asked Brian. “Just hands? Or something a little frightening?”

“Hands, definitely. We want the connection to what she used to do on her own. Definitely something scary for the next class, though. The scarier the better.”

Anne-Marie smiled. “I’m sure I can find something,” she said, thinking of a particularly wicked attachment she had acquired for the wand vibrators stacked in the closet of her classroom.

* * *

The next morning at 11, Anne-Marie strode into that classroom, in her white nightgown, and closed the door behind her. The six girls waiting there dropped to their knees. Anne-Marie supposed it was small-minded of her, but she could not deny the thrill of pride she felt to see her girls on their knees before her.

She loved her classroom, too. They had built it along the lines of a ballet studio, complete with barre and mirrors, and a gleaming wood floor. The closet was her favorite part: enormous, and full of wedge cushions and the collection of toys Anne-Marie had always dreamed she might one day have at her disposal.

“Good morning, girls,” she said as she moved through them to the front of the room.

“Good morning, miss,” they chorused.

She turned to face them. “I trust your aerobics and deportment classes were edifying. Welcome to Feminine Pleasure. Abigail, you may follow the lead of the other girls as we begin. We’ll start on the cushions. You may rise and fetch them.”

Anne-Marie watched Abigail closely as she rose, hesitantly, along with her new friends and followed them to the closet. The expression on her face was apprehensive. The other girls had been instructed not to talk about the courses of study more specifically than to tell Abigail their titles and to give her the broadest possible idea of their content. Brian had been right, of course; Abigail was already scared enough of the very concept of feminine pleasure. Even without the threat of a toy she would have her boundaries pressed very firmly in a few moments. A toy might push her response negative, as Brian called it when Abigail’s arousal went down when it wasn’t meant to.

Watching Zoe, especially, very closely, Abigail got a big cushion and a little cushion, and brought them out into the room. Anne-Marie saw Abigail register that the other girls were putting their cushions in a little circle and, at Zoe’s invitation, placed her cushions next to Zoe’s. Following Zoe’s lead, Abigail sat upon the comfortable seat made by the combination of the wedges.

Then Anne-Marie saw that Abigail had understood what sort of position she had just put herself in, as the other girls began to spread their knees and raise their nightgowns. Abigail froze, and Anne-Marie saw the teachable moment.

“You may begin, girls. Abigail, you are to expose yourself and bring yourself to climax.”

“Oh, no.” Abigail’s voice was very small, and very hesitant. The other girls obeyed Anne-Marie instantly, most of them closing their eyes, though Victoria, with her hem of her nightgown in her left hand and her right beginning to run its fingers up and down her sex, was looking around her for inspiration at the others, and also, Anne-Marie thought, at Abigail’s resistance, almost enviously. The little sighs and moans were already building: in one week, Anne-Marie had been able to bring almost all of them to the point where they could reach orgasm in five minutes or less.

But Abigail had put her hands over her crotch, smoothing down the fabric of her nightgown, and she was shaking her head. “I’m sorry, miss… I’m so sorry, but I… I just can’t. Not in front of everyone like that.”

Anne-Marie spoke kindly at first. “I know how hard it will be for you, Abigail, but let me make sure you know that your owner will make you pleasure yourself in front of others very frequently. You must learn how to perform so as to give him, and his guests, the sort of show they will enjoy watching.”

“No! He c-can’t! I… Oh, God…” She started to cry.

“Abigail, what do you think your owner would like us to do with you now, in light of your failure to obey his wishes?”

“No… please… Please don’t spank me, miss. I can’t bear it.”

“Then show me what you have under your nightgown and between your thighs, and start to play with it for me and your fellow concubines, this instant.”

The spectacle of Abigail’s resistance seemed to spur most of the other girls on. Victoria, who had been slipping wet fingers in and out of her pussy more and more quickly as she watched the scene, came first, with a gasping cry. Anne-Marie watched Abigail’s eyes dart in that direction and widen.

“Get up, Abigail,” Anne-Marie said, “go around the other side of your cushion, and lay yourself down there for a caning.”

“The cane? Oh, miss, no. Please.”

“Do as I say this instant, or I shall have to summon attendants.”

“Oh, God… I’ll… I’ll do it… b-but I don’t think…”

“That is not sufficient now, my dear. Prepare for your caning, or I shall summon the attendants to prepare you. I am disappointed, Abigail. You are a willful, bad girl who does not know how to please her owner, and your bottom will feel the consequences.”

Abigail sobbed and shakily got to her feet. Her body trembled, but she did not hesitate. Beatrice and Zoe came almost at the same moment, watching Abigail position herself over her cushions, her bottom up and her elbows resting where her thighs had been a few moments before. Jean had advised emphasizing Abigail’s badness as the next step forward for her, and the effect seemed to be everything he had predicted: she had trapped Abigail between two feelings of wickedness, and now the pain and shame of the caning would release her to a new ability to enjoy her submission. Abigail would always feel shame when Hans told her to masturbate in front of him and those to whom he wanted to display her obedience—not to mention her lovely bare charms. But as her course in feminine pleasure continued, she would learn to use the shame to arouse herself.

“Zoe, please fetch my cane.”

“Yes, miss.”

Abigail, in position, wailed, “I’m sorry, miss… I’ll be good… it’s just so… so hard.”

“I know, Abigail,” replied Anne-Marie sternly. “But that is not an excuse here at the Institute, where you have been lucky enough to be brought.”

Zoe tripped back across the classroom, carrying the cane that hung from a little hook next to the closet. Anne-Marie took it from her and swished it through the air, once, then twice. She took her stand next to Abigail’s backside.

“Beatrice, please raise Abigail’s nightgown and tuck it up.”

“Yes, miss.” Lovely Beatrice wore a tender expression on her face as she obeyed, seeming to try to bare her new friend’s bottom as gently as she could.

“Part your knees, Abigail, so that I may see your pussy and your anus.”

“Oh… I… I can’t, miss.”

“Nonsense. Do it now, or I shall summon the attendants to hold them apart.”

With a little whine of frustration, Abigail obeyed. As Anne-Marie suspected, her sex glistened with her arousal.

Anne-Marie looked at the cushions, where Penny was still playing with herself languidly, her fingers shining as they ran between her little brown anus and the brownish pink of her sex. “Penny, please arrange your cushion in front of Abigail, and go on with your exercise. But you are not to come until I give you permission.”

“Yes, miss,” said Penny, and obeyed.

“Prepare yourself, Abigail. Zoe, please watch Abigail’s face. If she closes her eyes, or seems to be trying to look away from Penny’s pussy, you are to tell me.”

“Oh, no…” whispered Abigail, and Anne-Marie struck her with the cane. Abigail yelped and began to breathe hard.

“Reach your right hand between your own legs,” ordered Anne-Marie softly.

“N-no…”

Anne-Marie whipped the cane full across her bottom, raising a second red stripe almost instantly.

“Ah! Oh, God… p-please… please don’t make me.”

Anne-Marie brought the cane down again on Abigail’s upper thighs.

“Do as I say, you bad girl.”

“But…”

Anne-Marie felt a little light-headed: the scene, with Penny playing with her own pussy just inches away from Abigail’s tearful face, and the lovely red welts rising angrily across Abigail’s pert bottom cheeks, seemed out of a dream.

“Zoe, is Abigail watching Penny?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Reach your right hand between your legs, Abigail, and touch that wet pussy of yours.”

With a loud sob, Abigail obeyed, and Anne-Marie watched with satisfaction as the girl’s pussy clenched helplessly, while at the same moment Abigail cried out in submissive pleasure at the feeling. Anne-Marie had the sudden wish that she were in the control room seeing the data coming off the screens. She couldn’t wait to hear what the assessors made of Abigail’s arousal.

“I am going to cane you until you come,” Anne-Marie said. Penny gave a little moan at that. She had her left hand under her nightgown, toying with one of her tiny nipples, and she was looking straight into Abigail’s face. Abigail’s fingers moved frantically now, rubbing all the way up and down her sex.

Anne-Marie brought the cane down once more, and Abigail came, with a scream. Anne-Marie nodded to Penny, and she came too, her back arching against the cushion.