The sweat was raining from my body when suddenly, I felt something against my ass, a strong, sudden hit that hurt.
I don’t think I had ever been more shocked in my entire life. I turned my head around and looked at Ari, who had just spanked my ass. My mouth was so wide open a whole watermelon could’ve been shoved in it.
“You didn’t just do that…” I gasped as the biggest smile I ever had formed on my thirsty lips.
Arrogant douche that he was, instead of apologizing, he gave me another slap, this one even stronger. I never felt more treated like an animal, like an object.
“Who told you to stop?” he asked. “Go on, or I’ll have to give you another spank.”
“Do it, and I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.”
I heard Alex’s virile giggle.
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. You’re biting the hell out of your lips.”
Dammit, I was as transparent as water it seemed. After all, I was totally naked. I turned back to look at Ari.
“Then maybe I need another spank to convince me…”
Suddenly, I remembered everyone else in the class was looking. I could feel a general sense of horror from where the girls were sitting, and they just looked at me, dumbfounded. Isabel’s gaze was the clearest, and the fire raging in it was the greatest. Thankfully, when I turned to Sarah, I saw that same comforting smile. She just nodded, as if endorsing whatever the fuck I was doing.
SPANK!
“Ow!”
Ari’s slap was so hard it got a pained groan out of me. And yet, I still somehow liked it. Convinced by the hot little gesture, I began shaking my ass again, this time even more zealously. As the girls began trying to ignore what I was doing by going back to their discussion, I made my sluttiness greater, asking repeatedly Ari for more spanks on the ass. Fuck they hurt, and yet I loved them! Every twenty seconds, I rotated a little so my ass would face another one of the guys, and every one of them took turns spanking my furiously shaking ass. The ones in front of me caressed my hair like they were petting a bitch. I rotated and danced and danced until my exhaustion was total, and finally I could do naught but let myself fall on the table.
I lay there on my back, and gasped for air as much as I could, while my upward pointing breasts went up and down with every breath I took. I just leaned there and looked at all those guys surrounding me. I couldn’t believe just how comfortable I felt.
God, I was just like a meal. I was just there, lying on the table totally naked. They could just touch me. They could just deploy their arms and touch it all. Why didn’t they? After all, my breasts were in perfect position for them to study just like Cynthia had. No, I knew why they didn’t dare do it. We were right in the middle of a class. We couldn’t do that in a college. Shame. Everything felt more erotic, more risqué, in this classroom’s context.
A hand began playing with my hair and stroking my face. It was Alex, of course. There was always sweetness to him. I crawled to him and sat on his lap.
“Hold me” I said.
And he did, crushing my boobs against him. I began giving him little pecks on the cheek, a continuous wave of shy little kisses against his rugged skin. It didn’t stop, I kept kissing and kissing. My head was spinning. I felt like in a dream.
“What did I do to deserve so much affection, suddenly?” he asked.
Nothing, I was just horny as fuck. I wanted him. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted his strength, his manliness, the feeling of his clothes against my nudity to feminize me, to make me feel protected. And more than that, much more than that. I wanted his touch. I wanted him to grab and grope every single part of me he could. I was sweating so much there were small wet patches on his clothes now.
Sarah called for the class’s attention and we moved to sit in front of the stage. She called for a break from discussion, and instead told us to focus on a new set of exercises. Small group by small group, we had to go on the stage and perform some improvisations; this time around though, the improvisations would be reflective of our findings on the play; not a sandbox we could just do anything with.
A group of four consisting of Isabel, Cynthia, Chanel and Claire got on the stage and performed an improv about the nature of sexuality. Each of the girls comically portrayed one of the Greek philosophers of old; Chanel especially was quite convincing as a pervert Socrates. Their improv took the form of those old philosophical dialogues, and they endlessly debated whether sexuality was a force from the gods to be embraced, or an enemy of logic to be stoically crushed.
Other improvisations followed, and in these, the girls were tasked with representing a sexual part of the body with a certain object that vaguely resembled it. Jennifer’s group, for example, had to talk about the sexual property of breasts through oranges, while Jennifer’s went on an interesting speech about the spiritual angle of anal penetration while using balloons as symbols for the ass. I know, I know, this is all pretty fucking weird. To this day I myself am still confused about some of it. The play definitely had your typical symbolic, post-something, pretentious artsy vibe to it. The time came for our improv.
Our gang went up on the stage, and we waited for Sarah’s indications on how to proceed. She was visibly thinking about something. Finally, she decided that our improv would be a continuation of our last one. We would pick up on the story of the naked secretary who had decided to be nude for her male co-workers. And our symbolic object was… police batons.
If I need to tell you which sexual part of the body the batons were meant to represent, you really need to open a biology book.
My six buddies each took a police baton, and just held it in their hands. They assumed their businessman postures and sat, all classy and cool, on their seats, doing…businessman-y stuff. I was still just standing up. What was I supposed to do?
Think, think… I thought about the context. The female co-worker had assumed the role of a sexual object. It only made sense for me to kneel. I looked up at the men around me, imagining them in classy suits. And that sole co-worker, naked and kneeling. It was so sexist, I should’ve felt ashamed… Why in the name of all that was holy, did I find it so hot? Before I could think of that, I heard Alex calling me.
“Mrs. Jane. Bring me some coffee.” I rapidly got up and nodded, going for the imaginary counter where the imaginary coffee machine was. “What’s that?” he asked, suddenly more gruff.
I turned around, confused.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“Is that how you answer? By just nodding? You should use respect when being talked to, young woman.”
I straightened up and lowered my head.
“Yes sir, I’m very sorry.”
“Good. Now bring me that coffee.” I brought it to him. He gave my ass a little paternalistic tap. “Good girl. You make a very good female employee.”
I heard Isabel groan in anger.
“Thank you sir.”
Someone knocked at the door. It was Issa, who was most probably acting as an exterior character.
“Well what are you waiting for young woman? Go on, open the door.”
I acted afraid.
“But sir… It’s a stranger. Can I put on my clothes on first?”
“Nonsense. It is part of your job as a secretary to be fully nude all the time here. Let people from outside know how seriously we take our jobs. Go on,” he gave my ass another tap, “don’t make him wait.”
I nodded obediently and opened the door for Issa who came in, raising his hat respectfully.
“Well howdy miss, I’m…” and he shut his trap in utter confusion. The realism of his acting made me guess that his inspiration was Ian and Joseph’s prior entrance into the Quarters.
“I’m…I’m sorry, is this not Harper and co?”
“It is sir.” I made sure my posture and tone were as obedient as possible.
“Then what…why…is…are you… Do you people work naked here?”
“No sir, the men don’t, only I do. I’m their secretary you see, and they recently agreed to modify my work contract. Now it stipulates that I’m to be totally naked at all times in their presence.”
“But why? This is sexual harassment young woman!”
“Not at all sir, it was my decision. We all agreed that it would be healthier for all of us if I never wear clothing.”
“I see…this is… I’m sorry, this is all very unusual for me.”
“I understand. Would you like me to perform a dance for you? It’s my speciality here. It could relieve your stress.”
“Why, no, of course not young woman! Just take me to your boss please, I only came here to speak of a contract!”
I nodded and led him to where the businessmen were seated. As Chris rose to shake his hand, I knelt again, having interiorised the proper attitude I believed Jane’s character should have.
Nice, bring on the next part!