School for Deviants (IC Thread)

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It was a new year, a new semester. The arrival of new students at the School for Deviants, an academy that to all outside views was a school for students with "academic troubles", students that had tendencies to disturbing things. What those outside views didn't seem to know was the manner in which these students were treated.

They weren't taught to subdue their deviant natures.
They were shown how to embrace it. Enjoy it. Control it.

Students were shown ways to know their own natures; be it dominant or submissive. Some came on their own accord, usually those who wanted to explore their more dominant side. Some were sent by lovers, most often the ones to confess their submissive nature. But each interacted with the other, a key part to the School being The Pairing rule. Each Dom Apprentice would have a Sub Trainee. Together, they would learn. There were classes separated for both, but each had lessons and 'assignments' to meet together. The intent was not to cause an attachment between the two, simply to pair a group to learn, train, and experience together.

But then there were the rare cases.
Ones that kept their pairings, others that discovered a change in themselves.
Or, another case. One that didn't seem to happen that often.
There had only been one case of that thus far in the School.

After the example that was made of her, no one else dared to do what she had done.


Throughout the campus, hidden behind its walls of brick and high-growing trees, shielding the school and its grounds from prying eyes and curious folk, the academy and its inhabitants were getting ready for those first days of classes. Traditions to keep, greetings to be made. The freshman class had already arrived, their tours having been completed earlier that day.

There was still one tradition to be met.

"Where'd she go?"
"She's hiding again."
"The Dean's gonna kick her ass, I bet."
"We better find her first. Come on!"


The petite blonde buried herself further beneath the bushes outside the Dean's office, closing her eyes and holding her breath. These seniors had dragged her from the office, removed her collar and tried to bring her to the freshman dorms. She had fought and kicked, screamed until one of them stuffed a sock in her mouth.

Hopefully they were gone now.
Creeping out slowly, she winced as the sharp points of the bush dug against her bare skin, peering around the corner of the building. They seemed to be out of sight.

"Peekaboo, Pet. We found you."

She screamed again, trying to get to her feet before a hand snatched the back of her hair, hauling her up himself. "Don't be so mean, Pet. It happens every year. Traditions, sweetie. Gotta keep to tradition," The senior guy crooned in her ear, still gripping her hair as he walked her down the stone path. "And everyone just loves this one..."

Bartholomew Teach diden't want to be here. He SHOULD have been at his own school, giving his validvictoran speech, but here he was at this "special" acadamy for "leadership skills", which was what his father called it. Him? He called it (insert 17 letter long string cotaining symbols of your choosing).

He was sitting agenst the fence of the freshmen containment yard, watching the upperclassmen torture an innocent girl. Some stupid initiation, he was sure. He had whistled the tune from "Gilligan's Island", the only TV show he'd ever seen more then three eposodes of, about a hundred times already, but he could still hear the same scream every time somebody popped out on that girl. Seriously.

Finnaly fed up with it," Bartholomew stomped over to the group with a regal air and purpose. "Look," he sternly yelled. "I don't care exactly what it is you do here, but go do it some other dammed place! You're ruining my sulking."

"And why should we?" They respond, baring fists.

"Becuse," Bartholomew politly ignroed their brutishness whale giving a steely eyed stare. " If you don't, and I don't think you won't, you'll be arrested for disturbing the peace faster then you can spell your own names."

That convinced the majority of them to leave, except the girl they where jumping. "Go on," he flatly demanded. "You can thank me with your name."

-bump-

Dean Karl Sterling / Grad Student Shane Walker

Karl sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers, massaging gently as he leaned back in his leather armchair and loosened his tie with his off hand. Registration day, it was absolutely the worst and what's more, it got worse every year. Answering the same asinine questions of would-be Masters, needy submissives and overly protective parents who simply refused to care for their children any longer. Each and every person asking the same redundant questions about things that ought to have been clear from their enrollment literature and all requesting time with the Dean.

Dean Sterling’s office was immaculate, wrapped from floor to ceiling in polished cherrywood and a collection of restraints, toys and torture devices that were built into the room as permanent fixtures, all culminating to the large wooden paddle mounted on the wall behind Dean Sterling’s desk. He was dressed in a pale gold colored suit with a white shirt and rose colored tie, he always tried to look professional for enrollment.

Despite his fancy clothes, Dean Sterling was no less distraught over this enrollment day than any others past. There were so many new arrivals, all of them demanding “Special” attention. Their was Bartholomew Teach, whose wealthy father had forced him to attend this school, a very rare thing for first year students who were usually thrilled by the opportunity to explore their sexual desires for college credit. Bart’s father had provided a sizeable contribution when Karl had insisted that this academy was not a reform school. The man wanted his son to learn discipline and leadership, but moreover, control. It was obvious from his file that Bart had a natural tendency toward Dominance, but without that discipline and control he was nothing more than an ogre.

Then there was the lovely Michelle Danvers, so lovely in fact that the Dean knew she would require special attention to keep safe and uncorrupted. She had a background in submission already, and with her stunning good looks, first year subs like her were often hunted by upper-class Dominants like fish in a barrel. Her Master was a friend of the school and also a long time booster. Dean Sterling shuddered to imagine the conversation he’d have to have with Jeremy St. John if his prized, would-be, puppy-girl, pain slut, submissive, had been bull-collared by a senior student.

Out of sheer desperation, Karl booked both of the “special” cases into Jack St. John’s “Intro to BDSM and lifestyle.” class. Let Jack worry about keeping his Cousin’s pride and joy safe. At least if anything went awry he’d prove an obvious scape-goat.

For the sake of experimentation, he also signed Michelle up for his own “Advanced Dehumanification for Submissives.” course, to gauge her ability to adapt to the life of a puppy, kitten, pony or whatever inhuman creature her personal submission allowed of her. It wasn’t usually a course that Freshmen were allowed to take, but Karl needed to find out just how deep the girl’s submission ran before he could probe deeper.

Bart also got an advanced placement class. Karl smiled to himself as he wrote the young, rebel’s name down on the ledger for “Submission for Dominants.” a class that proved difficult for even some of the most promising grad students. After all, if they were to sculpt this man into a true Dominant, they would first have to break him of his bad habits.

***

On the other side of campus, the third year grad student Shane Walker, was putting the finishing touches on his hand painted sign above pet’s head. The sign read: “Campus Cum-Dump. Welcome Freshmen!” Shane couldn’t help but be proud of his work. As his fraternity brothers from “TPE” were double checking that the knots on pet’s ankles and wrists were secure, Shane heard a smarmy little voice shouting from behind him.

On instinct alone, Shane whirled around, his fist cocking back of its own accord. He was relieved to find that it wasn’t a staff member, merely a lost little frosh-boy, irrationally upset over some imagined plight. Shane just grinned and clapped an open palm onto the young man’s back.

“This is no time for sulking. You’ve landed smack in the middle of the school of your dreams.” Shane grinned, leading him over to the bound up, helpless school mascot. “Just look at all the amenities we provide here! Go on, look! I can see you’ve got some pent up frustration running through you, why not let it out? Let it out all over this little cunt, that’s what she’s here for. Don’t worry about being rough with her either, she fucking loves that shit. Don’t bother asking her name either, she ain’t got one, not anymore. She isn’t worthy of a name. Just call her ‘slut’, or ‘bitch’, or ‘cunt’, or ‘cum rag’. That’s what the rest of us do.”

Shane was grinning the whole time, yanking back pet’s head by her hair as a demonstration of how the Freshmen could be rough with the helpless girl. Just as he thought he was getting ready to view a first class show, Shane spotted a knock-out, wandering aimlessly through the courtyard. He instantly forgot all about Bartholomew and pet, rushing over to take up her bags.

“Well hello there Angel. You must be new here because I haven’t yet had the pleasure... but I will.” Shane smirked, shouldering her duffel bag and lifting her suitcase from her slender fingers. “I’m Shane, but you can call me ‘Sir’. I pretty much run this place when the dean isn’t poking his nose in things. The sub dorms are over this way, follow me. On the way you can tell me your name.”

***

By the time the dean had filled up all the 101 and 202 classes with his fresh crop of First-Years, he was exhausted and beyond tense. He needed to blow off some steam and relax. After pouring himself a tumbler of Scotch, he returned to his arm chair.

“Pet! Get your little, white ass in here now! Your Master has a use for you.” Dean Sterling shouted, assuming that his plaything would be dutifully kneeling outside his door as she usually was. “Pet! Don’t you make me come looking for you. If I have to call you again, you’ll be sorry.”

No response.

What else could possibly go wrong today?

“Well hello there Angel. You must be new here because I haven’t yet had the pleasure... but I will.” Shane smirked, shouldering her duffel bag and lifting her suitcase from her slender fingers. “I’m Shane, but you can call me ‘Sir’. I pretty much run this place when the dean isn’t poking his nose in things. The sub dorms are over this way, follow me. On the way you can tell me your name.”

Michelle was startled when the stranger walked up to her and simply took her bags. He clearly didn't work here and she didn't know him from Adam so she wasn't sure why he'd taken them. She hadn't packed much, one large duffel and a suitcase. Jeremy had told her she wouldn't need much and she trusted his judgment.

Reaching up she fingered the delicate chain she wore around her neck, something to remind her of Jeremy, as this stranger instructed her to call him 'Sir'. At home she only called Jeremy Sir, but he'd told her things would be different here. She'd likely have to call more people Sir but this one seemed to young to be an instructor and she hadn't been assigned another student to work with yet.

Jeremy wouldn't like her calling him Sir.

"My apologies Shane but my Master wouldn't approve of me calling you Sir unless you're Staff or the other student I end up assigned to work with. He truly prefers I only use such titles of respect with him, but knows that won't be allowed here so he extended his rules only so far.

I'm Michelle Danvers if my name still interests you, but I'll understand as well if you prefer to search out someone not constrained by both the rules of this place, and the rules an outside Master has set for her."

She'd been both polite and honest in her rejection. Jeremy had set guidelines for her despite sending her here, and even if he hadn't she would still have sought to act in a manner that would please him if he were to hear of it, or show up and see it. He'd sent her here to be trained in ways he didn't have time for because of his professional life, not to just start playing around with other students.

Until he decided to hand her, her things back, however, she would continue to follow him to the subs dorm. She needed to get there anyway and unpack the few things she'd brought before she was given a class list and her life would change in earnest.

Pet had given up on screaming, even with that sock lost long ago. Shane and his damned TPE troupe of brothers had already had their own fun in the yearly tradition, leaving pet half-dazed and whimpering as the group bound her hands and ankles about the tree's trunk. Her mouth was sore, though not as sore as her thighs and pussy. She had thought she had found a good hiding spot from them this year, she really had. Obviously she was wrong on that.

She could hear Shane talking to the...somebody. Words weren't making much sense right now, just the feel of her own heart racing in her chest, the sound of her own breath, reminding her that Yes, this was real. Yes, this had happened.

She cringed a bit as fingers found the back of her head, forcing her to look up at the newcomer, her mouth half open as she gasped. She stared at him through those distant eyes, still panting softly. Her face was traced with lines of various shades of white, splattered against her nude form and even some caught in her hair. As vile as Shane's sign had been, it seemed to be holding some truth.

Even if she wasn't all that willing for it.

She yelped only slightly as Shane released her head, letting it fall back down and hang limply from her neck, the ropes his 'brothers' had attached actually seeming more a blessing than hindrance at the moment; they kept her from falling face-first into the dirt surrounding the tree.

Freshmen.
They didn't seem to understand the surroundings they'd been thrust into...

Still panting, pet closed her eyes, certain that he too would be another. The next to take on this tradition she hated so much.

Where was he? Where was the Dean?
Did she want to see him right now? He might blame her for it.
Somehow.

Part of her prayed for him to find her.
Another hoped he stayed away.

jack st john

Jack sat on the bench in the quadrangle, his favourite outdoor spot (the plaque read: DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF SIR RANDOLPH SPEARS, THE MASTER WHO GLORIOUSLY WENT TOO FAR), and sipped at his Starbucks cappuccino, and admired the view. The freshmen were being mean to Pet, as freshmen ever were. He was reminded of Toy Story 3, a little light relief he had allowed himself in a vacation otherwise devoted to textual analysis of the 120 Days of Sodom: how new children did not know how to behave decently towards the toys put at their disposal. It really was time the Dean intervened before his poor pet was inadvertently crippled.

Still, was this Jack's problem? It was not.

Ah, and there was Shane Walker being an arrogant prick again. What had the fool learnt from Jack's module on Masters and Morals? Already he was manhandling a new arrival who, on second glance, bore something of a resemblance to the photograph cousin Jeremy had emailed him of -

Goodness, it was her, only she was rather more good-looking in person than in two dimensions.

Ha! Shane's voice floated to him across the quad: 'I’m Shane, but you can call me ‘Sir’. I pretty much run this place when the dean isn’t poking his nose in things...”

“Shane, my dear fellow!” Jack stood in their way. The pretty young woman was blushing. Shane looked angry enough to be about to strike her; if he hadn't burdened himself with all of her luggage. Honestly, what kind of dominant would he ever make? “I'll take it from here, thanks, if you'll just leave the luggage.” The younger man hesitated; was Jack going to have to remind him about his overdue essay on Vampire Cults and Sexual Deviancy? Ah, no: perhaps Shane thought of the essay at the same time: he dropped the luggage, and with a “See you tomorrow,' and a last look at the young woman, was gone.

Michelle. That was the name she possessed at present, wasn't it? But not necessarily for long. “My dear girl,” he said to her. “My cousin Jeremy has told me a great deal about you. But his descriptions and your photographs don't do you justice...'

'Why, thank you...'

He heard her hesitate over what to call him. “Call me whatever you like. Only the insecure,” glancing towards Shane's receding back, “fetishize the word Sir. Your dormitory is over this way. But you can, quite frankly, carry your own bloody bags.”

He turned on his heel, hearing her mumble something but taking no notice, and strode towards the dormitory. He heard her heels clacking in his wake. Only when they were at the doorway of the long low building did he turn. Her eyes were bright; expectant. He smiled: “I don't know if you're familiar with the film Being John Malkovich?”

She was flustered, he saw contrary emotions cross her face, did she wish to please him by lying perhaps? Or did she not remember? No matter, no matter.

“There's a rather delightful conceit in the film,” he explained, “of a half-floor, which has been adopted by the designers of your dormitory. You will find that you have quite a long room, but it's only thirty inches high: you have to crawl within it. Yours is number 13. I shall expect you to find my rooms for your first tutorial at 6 pm. I hope you settle in well.”

What a delightful, smiling creature. He kissed her gently on the forehead, and strode away before he could descry her reply...

Bartholomew diden't end up going to this so-called "initiation", as if it would somehow prevent him from becoming a student at this school. Insted, he lifted his single, methodically packed suitcase and headed towards where he was told where the "Petty Lords'" dorms, a simple square brick building with gaudy shades. There was a joke in there somewhere, but he diden't fell like laughing.

He could hear the voices and stomps across the campus, egging on whatever decidant thing people here did. He blocked in out by humming "Gilligan's Island" for what must have been the thousanth time today and, with all the grace and power of a statesmen, pushed open the glass doors to a small lobby.

The lobby of the "Petty Lords'" wasen't exactly what he had hopped he'd find at the school he EARNED a spot at, Yale. It smelled of rotting leather, old cabbage, and potato paint, with perhaps a slight hint of cheap perfume. He walked calmly, collected over to the main desk, where he suddenly felt his foot sink into something slimy.

He diden't want to know what.

It was only a moment after he rang the bell that another member of the dorm, a wiry 20 something female with a drug-sunken face, shuffled out from behind a curtain, not even focusing on her client. Throwing herself onto a cast iron stool, she took one look at him and hacked a loogy.

"Excuse me mis," he let the saliva hit him, not willing to agitat the "it" he was standing in. " My name is Bartholimew, and I am unfortunate enough to be placed in this... building until a few paperwork issues can be sorted out. Perhaps you could escort me to my room?"

She barly seemed to even regiester him, so he pulled out a small notepad and started jotting down notes for health violations. It had taken effort to learn the game, alot of effort and alot of low-level part time jobs, but he could find the underbelly of any bussniess on the planet and expose it, something he planned on making good money doing. If they had to pay him whale he did so, well, so much the better.

Restoring Order

Shane sighed faintly as the girl’s hand drifted to her neck and she explained that she had been sent there by her Master, such a shame really. While she finished introducing herself, Shane just smiled, disarming and charming at once, holding the door for her to pass into her dorms.

“I understand completely, My apologies. I didn’t immediately recognize your chain as a collar. I can tell you that if there’s one thing absolutely everyone at this school learns, it is the sanctity of the Master, Slave relationship.” Shane smirked at Michelle, slipping a small flyer into her hand. “You will, however, be calling me ‘Sir’ one way or another, as I’m teaching the ‘Submission 101’ class this year. It’s required of Freshmen going for their degree in submission. Until then, however, my fraternity brothers and I are throwing a welcome party tonight at the TPE House. The theme is professors and school girls, I hope you get a chance to stop by.”

Before Shane even got a chance to tell the girl who introduced herself as Michelle how to get to the frat house he was most rudely interrupted. Old man St. John, the snippy, old professor and he bane of all the undergraduates lives. The type that believes even a subject like S&M is best explained through memorizing long tedious texts and writing massive, technical papers. Shane was glad he didn’t have to answer to that pompous old jerk as a student anymore, though he did have to respect him as a tenured professor. So he would... Even though he seemed to be going out of his way to be an ass.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Michelle. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class.” Shane muttered, trying hard to ignore Professor St. James. “I hope to see you around. Be sure to stop by later tonight, just in case your hands and knees get tired.”

Shane was walking backward after being “relieved” of Michelle’s bags. Still holding eye contact with her and making faces behind the Professor’s back, Shane backed right into Dean Sterling himself.

“The disciplined Male watches where he’s going Mister Walker.” Dean Sterling said in his most intimidating baritone, grasping Shane’s shoulders tightly after the young man backed into his chest. “I’m looking for the mascot, have you seen it?”

Shane was fortunate his back was to the Dean otherwise he would have been caught smirking, that wry, amused smirk that would betray when he was feeling proud of himself. Shane turned slowly after getting his expression under control.

“You mean ‘pet’? I haven’t seen her.” Shane shrugged. “I’ve just been welcoming new students, you know, doing my part as a graduate student and teacher. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go help the brothers. We have a big welcome party tonight. I’ll see you around.”

Dean Sterling’s jaw clenched as he looked in the direction Shane had come from and sighed. He could only hope that Shane hadn’t had the opportunity to make an impression on whoever he had been harassing. There was no time to go check on anything. He still had to find what had happened to his pet.

As he stepped out into the main plaza, the Dean’s mouth fell agape. How could he have forgotten? The first day was always an excuse for the upper-classmen to ravage, abuse and humiliate Pet. This, however, was beyond a simple prank! There was a crowd of new arrivals gathered around, using her hands, holes and even her hair to please themselves, all laughing. Above her head was a sign, it read: “Campus Cum Dump. Welcome Freshmen!”

As Dean Sterling chased off the young men, he saw her at last, covered from head to toe in thick semen. Utterly saturated and defiled, inside and out.

“Get away from her you little shits!” The Dean shouted, shoving one student hard enough to knock him to the ground. “Look at this fucking mess! What have you done, you stupid, insatiable slut? Get down from there you nasty little cum rag. Christ, you smell disgusting!”

Dean sterling untied the ropes with some effort. The skill and intricacy with which the knots were tied told him definitively that Shane Walker had been involved. If not directly then through his idiotic fraternity. As the last of the knots eventually pulled free, Dean sterling helped her down, ruining his tailored suit in an instant.

“Come on now... Let’s go get you cleaned up, you nasty little thing.”

Michelle's head was spinning as Shane was talking to her and then was suddenly interrupted. It seemed rude to her but the older man clearly had more seniority as Shane backed down. She tucked away the flyer he'd given her and flashed him an enigmatic smile before turning and picking up the bags Jeremy's cousin had made Shane discard.

Already the younger man was ahead in her books. He'd been polite and while a little cocky had still shown an understanding of basic manners toward another person. Jeremy's cousin, however, complimented her and then treated her like a maid, clearly expecting her to simply follow along behind him like a damned puppy. She didn't mind doing that for Jeremy, he was her Master and she adored him, but this man was a stranger and the attitude annoyed her.

She kept her thoughts to herself, letting him think whatever he liked about her silence as he led her to her dorm. She was unthrilled with the fact that she would hae to drawl through the room. She liked to study in her own room but there would be no comfortable way to do that in here, no way to sit at a desk or use a computer, that wouldn't be incredibly uncomfortable. Such a thing was poor designing in her mind but she wasn't the one running the school so, again, she kept quiet.

When he told her he expected her at six however her annoyance flashed to anger. Did he think she was stupid? Jeremy had made sure that he was bringing her up the day before classes started so that she would have time to unpack and settle in. He had wanted to ensure she had time to look about the campus, learn where the buildings are, and have some feel for the place so she wouldn't be totally at a loss when classes began...tomorrow.

She might be Jeremy's pet but she wasn't going to be Jack's fool.

Deciding to clear the matter up she put her bags nearly in a corner and slipped from her room. Her steps leading her toward the Administration building. She needed to have her schedule checked to make sure she didn't actually have a tutorial this evening. It certainly hadn't been listed on the class list Jeremy had given her before he'd left.

Finding the building deserted she sighed once more and started tapping her foot, the look on her face making it clear that she was thinking harder than any of the other new students about were. Finally making a decision she turned once more and started toward the house Shane had mentioned. If he was a teacher, or even a grad student, surely he'd be able to let her know if this "tutorial" was legitimate or a line of BS being fed to a naive, new, freshman.

She didn't know how much Jeremy had told his cousin, but one of the things he always said he adored about her was that she put up with shit from no one but him so he didn't have to worry about her when he was away from her. That wasn't going to change here.

Pet whimpered pathetically as she saw the Dean, quickly hanging her head as she looked away from his direction. The look of initial horror then anger left her feeling it was indeed her fault this had happened, though the fact more guys continued to linger gave her a smug satisfaction as he stormed over and yelled at them.

But then it was her turn.

She stared at the ground, trying to find her voice, but the thick combination of cum lining her throat and a sore mouth made it hard to say anything. All that came out was a hoarse whispered "Thank you, sir," as he let her down.

She fell against him.

His suit smelled clean, recently drycleaned, the holding scent of his cologne all over it.

And what did she smell of? Sex. Piss. Dirt. A complete disgusting opposite to the Dean.
She choked again, coughing over his arm, coughing so hard she nearly vomited.

That wouldn't go over well at all. Keep it in, keep it in!

He wanted her cleaned up. Oh, thank god. She felt sick like this, the drying deposits made by those recent arrivals on her skin and hair, the taste of them in her mouth. She whined again, peering back at the few guys that lingered and laughed. Her eyes narrowed. This was all that damn Shane's fault...