Read Physical Education Online
Authors: Louisa Bacio
Physical Education
Chapter One
I, Amanda Wilkinson, hereby give the instructors of San Francisco Sex University permission to fuck me in the ass.
No one fucks at SFSU without explicit permission. During enrollment, a student signs a number of consent forms. When Amanda, who usually went by the handle Mandi, heard about the sex-training school she ached to place her signature on those forms. Mandi felt like she’d had an average sex life, including losing her virginity at seventeen to her high school boyfriend. But at 24, her curiosity had grown a little out of control and she decided to learn from the professionals.
Recently, Mandi had graduated from a traditional college with her degree in marketing. Up until this point, she felt like she’d followed the well-worn path that society, and her parents, had laid out for her. Now, when most expected her to get a nine-to-five office job, she didn’t feel like conforming. Bored with the job hunt one night, she started scanning the personals section on a website and came across a teaser ad for Sex University. A sense of excitement started in the pit of her stomach and quickly traveled through the rest of her body: Dare she do the unexpected?
The admission process at SFSU took just about as long as any college. First there was an application, complete with an autobiographical essay, and then came the physical and oral exams. The school screened all applicants for sexually transmitted diseases several months prior to check-in.
Sex U. trained students in a variety of fields. The Dominatrix Diva sequence rivaled anything that Europe had to offer; High Society Seductress prepared women who were marrying into upper-class families; Pubic Relations taught the finer points of female enjoyment; and students who aspired to being paid to bring pleasure for a living signed up for Sex on the Sly. The school had some hopefuls who wanted to teach at the university, and then there were those like Mandi who wanted to expand their extracurricular activities. The thought of being filled anally excited her, and sometimes when she masturbated, she rubbed the puckered hole, but as soon as a partner even tickled her rosebud with a finger, she clamped the muscles tight. No entry was possible. She hoped the staff at SFSU would be able to teach her to loosen up a bit. She’d never know if she could enjoy it if she was never able to try it.
Even with all the mental preparations, Mandi hesitated on the last consent form; she looked up and took in her surroundings. What was she doing here? Was she crazy for giving herself, her body away, willingly? She could have a handful of lovers at any time she wanted. There were hundreds of potentials’ numbers – men and women – in her phone. Many of them, she was sure, would be more than willing to give her pleasure and help in her education, so to speak. Instead of doing the sensible thing, she did the opposite, the extreme. Just like always. Maybe she wasn’t so average.
The representative helping her could only be described as Surfer Boy gorgeous. As if he sensed her hesitation, he smiled at Mandi. Wavy blonde hair curled around his ears, and blue eyes that sparkled like the moon on tropical ocean water peeked out from behind long bangs. Stark white teeth contrasted against his tan skin. His nametag read “Blaine.” Mandi had heard of dance clubs where “only the beautiful people were allowed.” That rang true here. Not only were the applicants screened for their mental state but also for their physical characteristics.
Physical beauty and, even more importantly, a glamorous inner charm had blessed Mandi since her youth. At five feet seven inches, she could have starred in ZZ Top’s “Legs” video, because she was all legs. She possessed long, sculpted legs with calf muscles toned from modern dance. She wore a black miniskirt with a slit that flared over her full hips, accenting her dancer’s ass. Not too big, but definitely woman enough.
Her black hair hung in thick ringlets down past her breasts. She tucked a handful behind her ear and looked at Blaine with her dark green eyes. Today, her eyes reflected off her military brat tank top. If she wore blue, they would pick up that color. The only time her eyes changed on their own was when she was angry. Then, she’d been told a few times, they flashed gray.
The metallic pen felt solid between her fingers, and she signed her summer away.
White marble tile covered the foyer, and plush burgundy carpet started in the hallways. The school grounds lay beyond closed doors. Although she’d been through the interview process, Mandi hadn’t seen what lay beyond those locked doors. No one did until the first day. She wondered what mysteries and adventures lay ahead. Once she entered through those doors, there was no leaving for the three months of summer. Her friends and family thought she was backpacking abroad. If they only knew…
“Well, it seems as if all your paperwork is in order,” Blaine said. “Are you ready to start your instruction at Sex U. Ms. Wilkinson?”
Mandi took a deep breath. She couldn’t change her mind now, could she? “I’m as ready as I ever will be.”
“If you’ll follow me, then,” he said directing with his hand. “This way to the antechamber.”
For someone who looked so laid back, Blaine spoke eloquently, almost like an English butler. Rather than leading her forward, through those locked doors, Blaine strolled toward a side door. Amanda picked up her valise and followed him, watching the muscles of his tight butt clench inside his khaki shorts.
The door opened into an immense room filled with many other doors.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take that,” Blaine said as he grabbed her bag. “No personal items are allowed in the university.”
“But my clothes …”
“Everything you need will be provided.”
“I have a journal and pen in there that I would like.”
“I’m sorry, but nothing is allowed in. Anything can be used to masturbate with, and at SFSU, that is not permitted. Our inspectors will look through your bag and if there is anything they deem fit for entrance, it will be delivered to your cabin. Now, if you would,” Blaine said as he gestured her into room 27. Mandi looked longingly at her bag as Blaine placed it on a rolling rack outside the room. Inside, she knew, was her favorite soft lavender socks, a book of inspirational quotes and the chai spice tea she enjoyed savoring in the morning. She had to give up everything.
She was to remove all of her clothes and place them into a hamper.
“Sit tight until you hear the bell ring, then go through the second door and your lessons will begin.”
Amanda slid into the dressing room. She’d been there less than fifteen minutes, and she was already starting to feel nervous. How would she survive the summer, let alone the rest of the day? No luggage, and now she had to strip naked. She didn’t remember reading about this in the school catalog. She pulled off her skirt, slid her black lace g-string over the rounded curve of her butt, and placed it on top of her skirt. Then came her tank top and matching green bra. What was the use of packing all those sexy undergarments if she wasn’t going to be able to wear them? Once finished, she looked around for the hamper that Blaine mentioned. She found a laundry bag marked 27 and a shoot in the wall. She pulled the handle and looked down. From the looks of things, she wouldn’t be getting these clothes back any time soon. The room held one small bench with a green cushion. She might as well sit down while she waited.
She crossed her arms over her erect nipples. Since it wasn’t cold, it must be the anticipation, she thought. Her nervousness began to disperse. Instead, excitement replaced it. Moistness dampened the silky hair between her legs. This was going to be good.
A bell disrupted her thoughts. It was time. Amanda opened the door, ready to take on whatever came next, and found herself in a room full of other people.
Correction: other
naked
people.
Men and women burst out of the rooms like horses at a race, only to find themselves reined in. A petite blonde girl stood next to her, looking even more timid than Amanda felt. A tall, dark-haired man with stark almond-colored skin could be seen towering above the others on the other side of the room. A small Asian woman turned in circles, as if searching for a familiar face. And then the whistle shrilled. The sea of bare butts parted to reveal a mammoth woman with striking red hair; beside her stood another man who looked to be Blaine’s twin.
“All right everybody, that’s enough. You’ll have plenty of time to gawk at each other,” she said. “It’s time to get the first lesson started. I am Lucille, the headmistress of San Francisco Sex University, and what I say, you do.
“Now, everyone get into formation. Ten lines of five. Right now. On the double.”
Amanda fell into line. The pale blonde woman stepped in front of her. As easily as elementary school children, they lined up equally spaced apart, shoulders back, chests out and faces forward. Amanda stole a glance to her right, and then to her left. Some men could obviously not hide their excitement, and a particular dark-skinned man to the left of her looked to have something to be excited about. Others were clearly intimidated by the situation and were not rising to the occasion.
The last guy in the line to the right of her seemed to be crowding the guy in front of him. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. There were six in that row. Try as he might, he couldn’t line up.
“You there,” the Lucy Amazon said, getting down off her box. “Can’t you count? Do you plan on flunking out on your first day? In your first hour?”
The woman strutted down the aisle, all the more noticeable in her clothes. It wasn’t merely the fact that she was wearing something alluring; it was the fact that she was wearing something in this room filled with stripped-down bodies. Black four-inch thigh-high boots made her even taller. As she walked purposefully through the ranks, the floor vibrated with the pulse of her every step. Amanda caught a glimmer of musky vanilla perfume as the woman passed her. Everything about Headmistress Lucy commanded attention. Amanda felt drawn to the woman’s obvious strength and power.
Before she saw it, Amanda heard the smack of leather hitting bare flesh. The man yelped in surprise.
“Everyone remain facing forward,” Lucy said. “What is your name?”
“Raul.”
“Raul what?”
“Raul Montgomery.”
Smack.
“No, Raul, ma’am,” she corrected him.
From the corner of her eye, Mandi soaked in the scene. Raul looked to be of Puerto Rican and European descent, perhaps German. He wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was not much taller than Amanda herself. Smooth, light brown skin helped accent his chiseled chest. As he fought to keep his machismo, tears threatened to escape from behind his long black eyelashes.
“Raul, ma’am.”
“And I thought I said to get into lines of five.”
“Yes, ma’am. Five”
“And how many are in your line here? Count them.”
Raul leaned his head out. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” His eyes grew wider at “six.”
“And that’s exactly how many strikes you will get with my lash. Place your hands on the student in front of you, steady yourself, and lean over.”
And then the spanking began. With every strike, Amanda could feel her own cheeks grow hotter; her face flushed with embarrassment. She could never endure being humiliated, being spanked, in front of an entire class, or in back of the class, for that matter. By the fourth smack, Raul began to whimper, and on the sixth, he wailed: Machismo gone.
“Now go get in that line down there that only has four students in it. And next time, count, don’t follow.”
With that, Lucy walked back up to the front of the classroom. It was time to go over the rules of the school. Amanda had read some of them before entering the university; others were new.
“There are fifty students in this class. About half of you will graduate,” Lucy said. “Ten of you will not make it through the first week. Take a look at your neighbor. They might not be here next week. Only the strong and the dedicated will survive. And, those who can follow orders. Right, Raul?”
“Yes, ma’am,” rang out from the corner of the room.
This time, the Blaine-double spoke.
“My name is Wayne, and by now most of you have met my brother Blaine. There are certain rules that you must follow when you are at Sex U., and if you do not, there will be consequences.”
“First of all, no fraternization amongst the students unless otherwise instructed.”
Lucy emphasized the point, “That means no fucking amongst yourselves. If we want you to fuck – we’ll tell you. And only when we tell you.”
“Yes, right,” Wayne continued. “If you are caught ‘fucking’ another student then you will be punished. At worst, you will be expelled. There’s no masturbation. At Sex U., you are allowed to orgasm only when we tell you.”
What was this? Amanda thought. She had come to Sex U., well in order to come. Not to be made to hold it in until someone else deemed fit.
“No fucking yourself, in other words,” Lucy chimed in. “No vibrators, no dildos, no pens, and ladies – no shower heads. Someone will run your baths while you are here. No slipping the pussy beneath the faucet unless otherwise directed.”
“Exactly,” Wayne agreed. “When an instructor tells you to do something, you will do it. Is that understood?”
Mumbled “yeses” spread through the room.
“Is that understood?” Lucy asked louder.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy reached behind her and pulled on a chord. A bell chimed, and another door opened.
* * * *
Reed McAllister had come to San Francisco Sex University for reasons all his own. He was looking for a woman, the right woman, and so far he didn’t have any leads. He never saw himself working at a place such as SFSU, let alone
instructing
, but he had to admit it – the job did come with some perks.
