Classes started without any sort of crazy fanfare for which, Cat and Max at the very least, were endlessly grateful for. Each class was facilitated by a team of elite academic advisors. Cat wasn’t quite sure what their “elite” status necessarily came from, except that they were almost all men (save for one woman), all were impeccably well-spoken, well dressed and well groomed, and all exuded an air of extreme wealth.

After her first day, an hour in each of her upcoming courses (save for physical education, which apparently was taught solely by the dean), she wondered if her entire education was nothing but a racket to employ wealthy girls into the arms of wealthy men posing as part-time academic scholars. Except, by the end of the first week, she found it to be a less plausible theory than that she’d come in with. The professors knew their stuff. She hadn’t been cheapskated out of an education, she was sure of that. These people weren’t preaching the women in their classrooms any false information.

The women had all been told at orientation that they would be meeting their academic advisors within the first week classes - depending on which course was taught by which academic advisor. By Thursday, she had attended classes with each separate academic advisor - none of them had pulled her aside to chat in the way that almost every other girl had been. All freshmen had met their academic advisors. All except for Cat and Max. There was a single common denominator between them - one class and one instructor with whom they hadn’t attended yet.

“The dean can’t be our academic advisor,” Max argued the Friday morning they were both scheduled for physical education. Max at ten, Cat at noon.

“Why not? He’s technically a professor,” Cat reasoned in return.

“He’s technically a pervert, I think, but sure, yeah, ok. I guess he’s technically an instructor who’s teaching a super sketchy physical education class that no one else on our floor seems to have on their schedule for the semester. And oh yeah, by the way, also meets one on one in the dean’s office.” Max rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what kind of cult leader this dude is, but if he tries to impregnate me at any point… I’m out Cat. I am straight up and OUT of here. If I’m gone this time tomorrow it is because my academic advisor is a fucking pervert.”

Cat laughed. She also wondered how much of this rant could have been true.

::::

Cat didn’t have time to connect with Max prior to her one-on-one physical education class with the dean. Their class schedules were too separate from each other and there was no reconvening back in their room in between. Cat hated going into the “class” blind, without any ideas or expectations of what might happen when she attended today. She met with the dean every Friday at noon. Surely the classes and meetings wouldn’t follow the same path that every previous meeting had… right?! She didn’t think she could handle one more of his strange and invasive pelvic exams again - much less once a week every Friday.

She rushed into his study atrium and stopped short in front of the reception desk. One minute early. She’d made it in time! She exhaled a sigh of relief as she took in the current receptionist. It was a different girl than she’d seen there previously. This girl was completely blank faced and emotionless. She stared at Cat blankly and looked down to the tiny gold watch at her wrist.

“Physical education?” She asked, monotone.

“Y…” the blaring red buzzer rang out loudly through the atrium and the doors to the dean’s office swung open.

“He’s waiting,” the receptionist said, not turning her head towards the doors, barely even addressing Cat as she stood in front of the desk. Apparently that was all the pleasantry and preamble Cat would get from this new face. She slowly walked into his Study and the doors closed firmly behind her.

“Catherine,” the dean beamed at her from where he sat at his desk. “Come sit, let us chat for a bit.”

Cat crossed the room and sat opposite side of his desk on a hard wooden chair. Immediately, the bite of metal between her legs pinched painfully at her privates and she shifted, winced, and attempted to play the motion off as her attempting to demurely smooth her skirt over her knees. She took a furtive glance around the room and noted that his exam table setup had not been turned out. At least not yet. That was promising.

“Is everything ok, Catherine?” The dean asked with concern. She turned her attention back to him fully and startled at the intense stare he was giving her.

“I’m fine, sir, thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid I may be a bit confused about this course, though. What exactly is physical education?”

“All in due course, Catherine,” he evaded her question, “How is the belt feeling at the end of your first week?”

Of course he would ask about the stupid belt, “It’s fine, sir. It sometimes pinches when I sit. Especially on a hard surface.” Might as well be truthful about her current discomfort.

Something shifted in his face and he frowned, “I’ll have to take a look during our class then, I’m afraid.” Cat’s heart spiked at this admission and she felt a hot rush of heat flood her cheeks.

The dean continued on as if he had mentioned the weather outside and not something that doomed Cat to another assessment on his dreaded examination table. “Tell me about your first week, Catherine. How have your classes been? Have you already found anything in your studies that is of interest?”

Oh god. How could she even begin to answer this question? She hated her classes so far. The faculty were knowledgeable, if boring and dry most of the time. The subject material didn’t interest her - she could maybe get interested in the anatomy course, but Latin and psychology bored her nearly to tears.

“They have been going well, sir,” she replied, trying to select the answer of least resistance, “The faculty are very knowledgeable about their subject matter. The information is new and interesting. I think Latin might be a challenge, but I do speak French already so I think I have a good enough grasp on other languages to pick it up as I continue along.”

The dean scribbled a couple of notes on the pad of paper in front of him and smiled, “Any of your courses so far of particular or keen interest?”

Ugh. No? She paused thoughtfully, “I think I might like anatomy, sir.”

He beamed brightly. This, too, startled Cat. She hated to admit it to herself, but he actually was really attractive when he smiled like that. She chalked it up to the genuine smile making him appear more affable and human.

“How much do you know about the human body, Catherine?” He asked, curious, almost friendly.

Cat paused and met his gaze. She didn’t dare open her mouth to speak - she would trip over her words and heaven only knew what he would do or how he would instantly change if she started stuttering over an answer to a simple question.

“Enough, sir?” She replied quietly, shrugging slightly as she spoke.

He laughed - actually laughed! It was the first show of seemingly genuine emotion that she had actually seen from the man in the two weeks that she’d known him.

“Well, hopefully not so much that the class is boring for you,” he chuckled as he wrote something else down on the paper in front of him.

“Oh, no, no sir, not at all boring,” and it hadn’t been boring. She was interested to learn more about how the body worked, what was inside. What connected what to what. What made her brain function in tandem with what her hands wanted to do. How nerves and reflexes worked. She was a long way off from learning about any of these things, however. She’d only been in two classes so far and they’d barely even discussed anything beyond the basics of the human body.

“Your physical education will compliment your anatomy course quite well, I think” the dean explained, “In physical education, you will receive first hand lessons and experiences in what you learn in anatomy. In all of your courses, actually. For example, at the end of the week that you cover the circulatory system in anatomy, you will then get a lesson here, with me, about it at the end of that week. Typically, this lesson will include things like having your blood type tested, doing a blood draw, learning more about the various blood tests that a physician can order, or a young lady like you can request from her physician, depending on what sort of health problems or symptoms she might be displaying at any point in time.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“Do you have any questions so far?”

She bit her lower lip and shook her head, “No, sir?”

“Good,” he wrote another note on his paper. “I also need to inform you today that I, unfortunately, will need to assume the role as your academic advisor for your academic career here at St. Mary’s.”

Of fucking course.

“Normally, academic advisor is not a role that I get involved with. Running this college is enough work for two people in and of itself. Alas, one of our advisors decided to drop out from teaching over the summer. I tried to find a replacement for her, but it’s so difficult to find good teachers these days. Much less someone who is competent enough to stand in as a mentor for one of our young scholars here. So I have assumed the role myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had a young protégé - protégés, actually, as I will also be advising your roommate, Maxine.”

Well, they were certainly right about that point, at least.

“How does she feel about that?” Cat couldn’t help herself from asking the question.

The dean smiled and shook his head. “She’ll come around to the idea eventually.”

What a vague, non-response. Cat supposed that she probably shouldn’t have been surprised by the evasion.

”Catherine,” he continued, “I will be frank with you right now. I like you a lot. You are very smart, and certainly your previous academic testing and performance is nothing short of perfection. You perfectly model the high personal and moral standards that are a key tenant of our college here, which is due in no small part to the role that your parents impressed upon you throughout the entirety of your young life so far.”

This conversation was taking a weird turn for her. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to come into this class, or meeting, or whatever it was, today and receive praise and compliments. She had no idea what her role was here. Was she allowed to ask questions? Was she able to engage in an actual conversation with this man? Is this what he was doing with her right now?! She wanted to make a snide or sarcastic comment about her parents. How awful they really were. How her father embezzled thousands, if not millions, of dollars from the church to pay for her education here. How her mother was likely having an affair with the youth pastor who had only just graduated from St. Joseph’s last year. How the two of them had somehow agreed to send her to this god awful college that prevented her from having any freedom or autonomy of her own.

But she couldn’t mention any of that. She certainly didn’t want the punishment that would inevitably follow in its wake.

“My parents have been generous to me, yes,” she answered. True enough, she supposed.

“I mentioned when we first met that your academic advisor would choose your major for you, once the path for it was clear and decided upon,” he continued. “Well, Catherine, I have been thinking about and considering the options for you very carefully ever since your initial interview with me a couple of weeks ago. I’ve decided that you - and your sweet young roommate, Maxine - are destined to study medicine.”

Medicine?! Max sweet?!? This dean was off his rocker.

“Medicine?” Cat asked. He wanted her to become a doctor?

“The field is broad, Catherine, I will allow you some consideration and the ultimate career path that you choose to take,” he explained. “To become a physician such as myself, well, that will take years of schooling. You would need to earn your doctorate. Say, if you don’t want to commit to eight to ten or more years of school, you could choose to go into nursing. Nursing would allow you a shorter tenure at this college, but also offers a lot of opportunity for specializations and, also, a doctorate if that’s of interest.” Cat’s head spun - it sure sounded like he was committing her to a six to ten year jail sentence. She didn’t know any doctor or nurse who had gone to school for any less time than that.

“And if I don’t want to be a doctor or nurse, sir?” She asked timidly. Not that she was entirely opposed to either. But it certainly was a far cry from history.

His face shifted slightly, “Beyond a practicing physician of the human body… You could go into neuroscience. Psychology?” Cat shrugged. “There’s also physiotherapy. Kinesiology. I suppose there’s always teaching if you don’t enjoy the real life practice. Look at me, after all.”

Yes. And look what he did. She wasn’t sure if he could actually call himself a practicing physician OR educator given what he had done to her and her friends so far.

“So! Lots of options for a young lady to choose from. You certainly don’t need to decide the discipline today, this week or even this year. Think about it as time goes on and we can ensure that your courses throughout the next few years will complement what you want to do for a living when you eventually graduate.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, emotionless. Case closed. She guessed she was going to become some sort of physician when she eventually escaped this hellhole.

“Any questions about your academic career, Catherine?”

She shook her head, “No, sir.” She didn’t see the point in arguing. She wondered how Max had taken the news earlier today. Her roommate may have been more amenable to the idea. Cat could see her becoming a psychologist or some sort of mental health professional in the future. She had the attitude and empathy to do the job, at least.

“Excellent,” the doctor stood up from his desk, “Now we can continue with your physical education course for the day.” He walked over to the milky green wall sconce and pulled at it, setting the wall into motion rotating his examination setup to assume that space of the room. Cat’s heart pounded as the wall slowly turned and that dreaded table came into view. She stayed rooted to her chair, her breath starting to come in quick gasps despite her internal screaming to stay calm and collected.

“Catherine, you may join me over here,” he patted the table and Cat felt her stomach twist in anxiety. Slowly, trying to hide the shake in her legs, she stood to her feet and tentatively joined the dean on the other side of the room.

She came to stand in front of him at the end of the table and stopped, hands at her side, unwilling to sit down again on such a hard and high up surface.

“You may undress,” the dean stated, “Completely.”

“Sir?” She asked without thinking and in response, he slapped her harshly across the face. She gasped and grabbed her cheek as tears threatened to burst from her eyes.

“Undress. Completely.” Gone was the affable man that she had sat and spoken with only minutes before. His face had morphed back into the stern, strong and towering man that haunted her dreams at night. Her hands shaking, she brought her fingers to the buttons of her blouse and slowly began to unfasten them one by one.

She thought that he might busy himself, collecting more supplies from his cabinets to allow her a shred of privacy. Maybe he would turn his back or go back to his desk for something. He did none of these things. He stood, imposing, in front of her, hands on his hips as he watched every single movement Cat made.

Cat fumbled with the last button on her blouse, finally undid it, and shrugged the shirt from her shoulders. She wished she’d chosen a different bra today. The one she was wearing was just a bit too small on her. It made her breasts spill out over the top of the cups just barely.

She watched in stunned horror as the dean leaned in close to her and pulled out the hidden drawer from under the table and withdrew that fucking rod from within. She watched every minute movement from the dean as he pulled the rod from its hiding place and resumed his position in front of her, tapping the wooden stick against his free hand as Cat reluctantly reached behind her back for the button and zipper of her skirt.

The second her gaze left the dean’s, he lashed out and smacked the rod against the top of her breasts. She jumped back with a yelp and he violently grabbed and yanked at her elbow to pull her back close to him.

“Get a bra that fits, Catherine,” he said, staring at the red welt rising across her chest.

“Y…Yes, sir,” she let the skirt fall to her feet. “The others were dirty this was all I had left…” Another crack across her chest and she crumpled forward, holding at her chest as pain flared through her body.

“Poor excuses! Stand!” He cracked the rod against the flat of her back as she was bent forward and she sprang back upright again, hot heat spreading across the entire front and back of her torso.

She stood nearly naked in front of him now - the only things hiding her nudity being the apparently ill-fitting bra and the chastity belt around her hips. She was grateful for the chastity belt, at least, it would keep his hands and that fucking rod out of her privates.

“Remove it,” he said, nodding towards her breasts again. She didn’t rush to undo the clasp right away and he brandished the rod upward again as Cat’s eyes widened and she quickly brought her hands behind her back to take off her last article of clothing.

She visibly flinched as he brought the tip of the rod between them and flicked it in her direction.

“Sir?” She whispered in terror, certain that he would strike her straight across her nipples. They flared in response to the thought.

“Your brassiere, Catherine,” he intoned, flicking the rod again.

Shaking, she hung the strap of her bra over the tip of the rod and he flung it like a slingshot across the room.

“Commissary on your way home, Catherine. No exceptions.” He tapped the rod against the exam table. “Sit. Please.”

She complied immediately and nimbly. She crossed her legs tightly at the knees and shoved her hands between her legs.

“Lie back.”

“What are you doing?” She gasped. It was risky and she knew it. She trained her eye on the rod as she said it, hoping that maybe she could flinch away from it fast enough if she didn’t lose sight of it.

“Your anatomy lesson, Catherine,” the dean replied, sounding…sympathetic? She dared take her eyes off the rod to look at him instead and she was alarmed to see him smiling genially at her. ”I like questions, Catherine. It helps the scholar learn. Now. Lie back.”

What the fuck had just happened?! Since WHEN did the dean like questions? She felt like she remembered hearing in the bogus rules and regulations that the dean was never to be questioned. That HAD been mentioned… hadn’t it?

”Anatomy lesson”, although sounding suspiciously nefarious as it was currently occurring, well, he had told her that their physical education would mirror the anatomy lessons from the week so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that this was just his weird and twisted way of teaching someone who had been expressly forbidden from even attending sex ed to learn about the workings of the human body.

At least that is how she would justify this entire thing to the other girls when they inevitably interrogated the information out of her later.

She lay on her back and stretched her legs out long in front of her. The steel between her legs bit at her again and she flinched. She awkwardly hugged herself, trying to cover her breasts with her arm and feeling the need to cover her privates with the other.

“Arms at your sides, please,” the dean said from above her, and she hugged herself just a bit harder as he reached out with the rod and gently guided her hand away from her body.

Oh god, she was going to have a heart attack. She lost track of her pulse the second she felt that bite between her legs. All she could think about was…

“Spread.” Her heart plunged to her feet and she let out an involuntary cry. Her hands flew to her mouth and instead of spreading her thighs, she clamped them tightly together and awaited whatever awful punishment was about to befall her.

But nothing happened. The dean let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes.

“You want to start with the easy part first?” He asked.

A choice?! God, what was the ‘easy’ part of lying naked with a sadistic rod-wielding professor standing over you?!

”Please?” Cat squeaked and she physically recoiled as he put his hands firmly on top of her knees and pressed downwards towards the table. She submitted to his firm guidance and stretched her legs out long in front of her again.

“Catherine, what did you learn about the human body in your anatomy classes this week?” The dean asked as he came up the table to stand by Cat’s head.

“Uh, it was pretty general information…” she felt a sharp and hot flick at her ear, the pain smarted and burned like it had when she’d had it pierced weeks before.

“Refrain from saying things like, ‘uh’ and ‘um’ and ‘er’, Catherine, it makes you look dumb,” the dean said sternly. What had he just done?! Cat’s eyes widened as she saw his hand stroke her hair from her peripheral vision.

“We learned about the general form and function of the human body. A very general overview of parts and organs,” Catherine explained.

“Starting with…”

Was he QUIZZING her?! “The head?” Catherine answered.

“The main function of the head would be…”

”The brain?” Catherine couldn’t think straight herself right now. She had no idea if that was the answer that he was looking for. If it was the right answer. She felt another light tug at her hair and the dean took a step down the table to stand at her shoulder.

The dean loomed above her and, once again, brandished the rod in his hand as he twitched and flicked it back and forth above her naked body. She watched, terrified and certain he was going to strike her nipples any second, the pink tips in question rising to alarm and attention at the mere thought of it.

He playfully dropped the rod down towards her hand and lightly rapped once on each of her knuckles. Teasing, almost playful, and yet each of her fingers jumped in reflexive response as went down the line.

“How many bones are in the human hand, Catherine?” He asked.

Oh shit. Twenty something. She knew it was twenty something, but how many twenty something? “Twenty seven?” She squeaked, closing her eyes as she answered.

“Correct! And next,” he tapped the rod against the side of Cat’s rib cage and she nearly flew sideways off the table. The dean chuckled. Chuckled?! ”Are you ticklish, Catherine?” He tapped her ribs again and she stayed still the second time. “Hm. Maybe not. Catherine, how many rib bones are there in the human body?”

Double shit. She wished she could drag her hands up her sides to feel and count them. Surely he wasn’t going to allow that. As if reading her mind, he rapped at the palm of one of her hands. That was a lot less playful and teasing than the previous touches had been.

“Twenty?” She guessed. The rod came down hard and fast, cracking against the top of her rib cage, just under her breasts. She let out a startled scream as a second WHAP flew across her belly and she reflexively pulled herself into a fetal position.

“Twenty four! On your back!” Painfully, she uncurled her body and lay flat on her back again. Her entire belly felt like it had been lit on fire. Her nipples and the spot where the metal was biting between her legs throbbed.

She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to center herself and her nerves. As she did, she felt the rough caress of a hand over the welt forming under her breasts and she stilled immediately, daring not to move a millimeter.

The hand skated lower, trailing across the welt on her belly next, until it came around to rest on her hip, a couple inches below the band of the belt.

“Main function of the hips, please, Catherine,” the dean said softly. She opened an eye to look at him again and she felt nauseated and uneasy about the look she saw on his face now. It wasn’t an expression that she’d seen on him yet. It was unnerving and she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why.

“The hips…” Cat thought for the answer that he might be looking for. Surely it wouldn’t be something as slimy as ‘for childbearing’ although that was the first thought that had popped into her head when asked the question. “The hips carry the body around. Without a functional pair of hips, a person couldn’t move around freely.”

The dean considered her answer and tossed the rod back and forth between his hands as he did.

“That’s an acceptable answer,” he decided. He tossed the rod up towards the ceiling, snatched it from middair and thwapped it down across Cat’s knees. She jumped, but barely. It was more the reflex from getting rapped on the knees than response to the strike. At least that’s what she told herself.

“What is the name of the bone in your knees?” He asked as he tapped the rod up and down on top of hers.

“P…patella bone,” Cat answered. She got a harder whack on top of the knees from the stutter. She anticipated it coming.

She wanted to kick the dean as he dragged the tip of the rod down her shin bone and pressed it into the top of her foot.

“And finally. The feet.” He lifted the rod and tapped it sidelong across the bottoms of her toes.

“How many bones are in your feet, Catherine?”

“One foot or both feet, sir?” She asked. He smacked the rod against the arch of her feet.

“Hm. Both.”

Triple shit. Why did she have to volunteer herself for math under these conditions? She thought, tried to add, the numbers got jumbled, she knew it would be in the 40s, no, 50s… Another THWACK to the bottom of her feet and she spit out, “45?”

She could have sworn the blow he delivered to her feet could have broken one or five of those 40-or-50 something bones, but that was quickly forgotten as he barked out, “WRONG! SPREAD!”

She swallowed the shriek this time. Her feet throbbed, burned and ached as she lifted and placed them into position at the end of the table. She didn’t need to be told the position. It was practically all she could ever think about when she closed her eyes.

“SPREAD!” Shit. She braced herself for impact as he delivered two brutal and harsh blows to each of her inner thighs. Her legs dropped wide open and there was that inscrutable smile of the dean’s again. Then he did something that shocked Cat. He placed the rod back in the tray under the table.

“Sir?” Her mind was racing with thoughts of what he could be about to do.

“You learn fast, we won’t need the rod today. Stay there in position. Don’t move. I need to grab your key, Catherine.” He left her side to return to his desk for her key - what key? She saw the glint of gold in his hand and suddenly realized what was about to happen. Was he going to take her out of the belt? Like, permanently? Was he going to do… What was he going to do?

He stood over her and unlocked the belt at her waist. He manipulated her limbs out of the contraption and set her legs back in the spread stance she had placed them in. Her heart froze as he moved to stand at the end of the table between her legs. What…how…what was he going to do?!

“Catherine, why didn't you mention your refitted belt was too tight?”

Because it wasn't? She hadn't really thought so, at least, she just figured it was supposed to be uncomfortable. It WAS uncomfortable having steel rubbing up against you all day long - seemed silly to consider otherwise.

She felt a tendril of dread threading through her body as she realized the dean was motionless, emotionless, as he stood STARING between her legs. She reflexively began to move her legs together when he pressed firmly on the inside of each of her knees and lowered them down and outward.

“Catherine,” he gasped, like, actually gasped. It was, by far, the creepiest thing she'd ever experienced at his hands so far. Rod? What rod? She was terrified now that this pervert was about to actually touch her. So much for “not violating virgins within their first week” - he'd do it in two.

“Sir?” she squeaked, immobile as he was.

“You…you haven't…” he swallowed hard, “you didn't manipulate your device in the past week, did you?”

“No, sir,” she could confidently answer that much, at least.

He was being so weird. It was like he was paralyzed, frozen, as he stared intently - much too intently - at Cat’s genitals.

“Is something wrong, sir?” She risked the question.

“I need to…” he reached his hand toward her and she gasped. “Just a touch. The tiniest touch, Catherine. I think…”

Dude. He was like, pale? He looked ill. What the actual fuck?

She gasped out a “Sir!” as she felt the touch of his fingertip at her perineum. Oh god. Surely he wasn't going to stick his finger up her asshole again?!

“Does this hurt?” He pressed harder into the skin and she winced.

“Yes!” She squeaked.

“No,” the dean breathed and Cat felt his finger slide higher and apply the barest pressure. “And this…?”

Cat made a noncommittal noise in response and the dean withdrew his hand and rose to his full height.

“Catherine…” he began pacing back and forth in front of the table. “Catherine…I…we have a conundrum, I'm afraid.”

“Sir?” She was lost. Utterly and completely lost. She desperately wanted to close her legs but feared whatever retribution might follow for her doing so.

“The belt,” he sighed, and picked up the offending item from next to the table and threw it across the room with a staggering amount of strength and force. It knocked a book off the bookshelf where it landed.

“What about it, sir?” She asked and then made a yelp of surprise as he fell to his forearms on the table, landing between her legs.

She could feel his breath against her skin and she wanted to launch herself backwards from his shoulders. Instead, she only froze again, her breath shallow and frantic.

“Catherine,” she could feel his touch between her legs again, barely prodding at her opening, “it TORE you.” He sounded completely devastated and it made Cat cringe and want to recoil from his touch. ”Barely, but…”

He cleared his throat like he suddenly realized who and where he was and straightened himself up tall again at the foot of the table. Cat just stared up at him, wild-eyed and bewildered. WHAT in the actual fuck had just happened?!

He started pacing again and Cat flinched her legs towards one another as if asking for permission from him to close them again.

“Yes, yes, we’re done with this for today,” he waved his arm at her dismissively and she snapped her legs together and shakily pushed herself upright, covering and cupping her breasts in her hands.

“Sir?” She was stunned. Utterly stunned. She wanted to fucking claw his eyes out, but also… he was so visibly distressed that it alarmed her in a way that made her terrified for her fate.

“Well, since I can’t repair a HYMEN!” He caught the metal tray next to the table under his hand and flung it across the room in the opposite direction he’d thrown the belt. Cat jumped where she sat and curled in on herself, trying to make the space she was occupying smaller.

“For God’s sakes, Catherine, put your fucking skirt back on,” the dean snapped as he stormed back over to his desk and wrote something down there. Her breath caught on his curse. She had just assumed all profanity was forbidden… the dean included. Maybe it was.

She stepped back into her skirt and pulled it back up around her waist. It itched even worse than before without the belt around her skin. It burned against the welts from her lashings from the rod.

“And commissary. Straight there from here,” he looked up as Cat reached for her shirt and immediately began to button it back up from the top down. “Your nipples are obscene, Catherine.” Her cheeks burned red as the offending body part rose in response to the insult.

She hated to ask, but she was desperately curious and his demeanor had changed so completely and drastically over the course of their time together she didn’t know what to make to anything at the moment.

“Sir, what about my belt?”

”It already ruined you,” he said, as if to himself, “should have kept you out of it, but your idiotic parents insisted. They’ll be real delighted now.”

“Sir?”

“No belt. I would recommend you stay on a course that keeps it from becoming a legitimate necessity. I’m not worried about that for you at this point in time,” the dean seemed to compose himself back to normal again. “Understand though, Catherine, I have just placed the utmost of trust and assurance in your compliance to your own modesty. The patrons will watch you day and night and report directly to me, your academic advisor. Should I deem it necessary for assessment, you will comply immediately and without hesitation or argument. That is absolute, Catherine. Should I find that the hymen has torn further or diminished in these assessments, then further examination will be carried out immediately. Do you understand?”

No. “Yes?” She answered quietly. She thought it sounded like she was resigning herself to an entire academic career of weekly…whatever the fuck that just was.

He called the pager on top of his desk and Cat heard the dull, “Sir?” From the receptionist in the atrium.

“Cancel my next meeting,” the dean said into the box on his desk.

“Sir?”

“CANCEL!” He boomed and punched the top of his desk. Cat jumped and looked towards the door.

“Are we…done?” She asked, terrified he might say no.

“Yes. Go. I’ll see you again in class next Friday,” he removed his glasses and waved her away with his hand. Cat practically fled the room, passing by an utterly ashen faced version of the girl that she had greeted when she had arrived. She stopped, addressed the girl, “Are you…ok?”

“Are you?” The girl whispered.

“Yes, I’ll be fine - are you ok?” Cat pried.

“MOLLY!” The dean yelled from inside the office. The girl at the desk sat up straight in her chair and rose to her feet. Cat gave her a pleading look of questionining for the girl’s answer.

“Whatever he didn’t do to you, he’ll do it to me,” she answered. She lowered her voice to a bare whisper, “It’s terrifying when we hear you scream.” Maybe the lack of reaction or response was worth more than just the benefit of avoiding a strike or prod from the rod. The receptionist disappeared into the study and Cat fled from Temple Hall.