The principal himself caught Jeannie having sex with her ‘boyfriend.’ Really, she only called Mike her ‘boyfriend’ in her head to make herself feel better about fucking him. You didn’t date in any meaningful way at an educational facility, even after turning eighteen. Girls like Jeannie, who got ‘interested’ enough in boys in their co-ed classes to make out with them, spoke of themselves as having boyfriends. It made them feel more grown up, more independent and ready for adult life—and adult fun.
Jeannie knew that her body wanted adult fun, and given her generally devil-may-care attitude, she hadn’t hesitated much in proposing, a week before, that Mike meet her in the classroom she knew always to be empty at two o’clock on Tuesday. When he had asked, in the midst of a deep kiss, as his hand fumbled inexpertly with her school bra, if she wanted to go all the way, Jeannie hadn’t had to do any soul searching.
She could tell that Mike had very little experience, and that it wouldn’t be ‘good’—whatever they meant by that word in the racier kind of online magazine stories EF girls could access on their tablets. Still, the way even his clumsy touch on her breasts and butt made her feel made it clear that even mediocre fucking represented a highly desirable thing, whatever her teachers and principal said.
Jeannie had listened to enough lectures about the importance of her sexuality in the struggle to maintain the social order, though, to cry out in shame when the principal of Educational Facility 39 walked into the dark classroom where she had given it up to Mike the previous week, and now lay under him on the teacher’s desk with his dick in her for the second time. Even the first time, with the blood she had needed to clean up afterward before she left the classroom, had felt pretty good, even if from a glamour mag standpoint she could definitely tell it hadn’t been very good.
The second time felt even better, before the principal walked in; Mike had paid some attention to the very little breasts whose diminutive size Jeannie found so embarrassing. He had gotten her bra unhooked on the first try, and pinched the tiny strawberry nipples in a way that suggested he might know something about what a girl like Jeannie needed—or maybe, said a thought Jeannie pushed away hard, he just thought that was how you treated a nipple. It made her wetter than she had gotten the first time, though, and that meant his nineteen-year-old hardness felt nicer inside her, when she had lain back on the teacher’s desk and invited him with the slutty, grownup words, “Are you gonna fuck me?”
Girls at EF 39 received contraceptive shots once they turned eighteen. The federal administration promoted abstinence as the gold standard for premarital life. Since the adoption of the corporate laws the bottom line had made itself powerful enough that no one running the EFs had any illusions. Girls and boys, in separate classrooms, heard at mortifying length about the new legal basis for disciplining young people who had premarital sex, but the shots made it pretty clear that people like Principal Davis knew how hypocritical the policy sounded.
On the one hand, it gave a bad girl like Jeannie an extra thrill when she decided to fuck her boyfriend in an empty classroom. On the other hand, though, it meant that when Principal Davis turned on the lights and said, “What’s going on here?” Jeannie let out a cry of shame and fear as she tried to cover her breasts. Mike had gotten off her, and he scrambled to get his pants up as he looked at the dark-suited figure of the school administrator just inside the door of the classroom.
With her other hand, she smoothed down her plaid skirt: at least that covered her up, though her white school panties lay on the floor to the side of the desk. Mike had unbuttoned her shirt completely, though, so her bra got tangled as she tried to shrug it and the shirt back onto her shoulders, while holding her hands over her little breasts.
“I asked a question,” the principal thundered. “Michael, what is going on here?”
Mike, whose bad-boy qualities seemed to vanish in the face of the principal’s stern demeanor and the knowledge of the paddle that hung on his wall said, of course, “Nothing, sir?”
Jeannie wished he hadn’t made the question mark so obvious. The principal couldn’t have failed to understand precisely what the two seniors had done—to neither of their satisfactions, thanks to the administrator’s entrance—on the teacher’s desk. Jeannie might have respected her ‘boyfriend’ most if he had said, “I was fucking Jeannie, you arrogant asshole, and we both liked it, so why don’t you go back to your office and I’ll go back to fucking.” She would, however, have felt reasonably happy with Nothing, if Mike had said it more decisively.
“Miss Jean Rendoski,” Principal Davis demanded, turning his eyes on her so that despite herself she simultaneously clutched at her chest and tried to get her shirt on, two mutually incompatible impulses that canceled each other out so humiliatingly Jeannie felt tears start at the corners of her eyes, “was it nothing that Mr. Barrera was doing to you on that desk, like a little slut who can’t keep her knees closed?”
Jeannie’s face felt as hot as the sun, but she took a grim satisfaction in the steadiness of her voice, so much greater than Mike had mustered.
“Yes, sir,” she said, narrowing her eyes and glaring at him despite the way her heart pounded in her chest.
“Yes, you are a little slut who let a boy get in your whorish vagina with his tiny high school dick?”
Mike made a noise of protest. Jeannie supposed it had come from an objection to the way Principal Davis characterized his penis, but she let her mind entertain the possibility that her ‘boyfriend’ had some impulse to stand up for her.
Whatever. Her blush descended all the way to her chest, now, but whether or not Mike meant to stand up for her, Jeannie literally stood up from the desk to confront the principal. She gathered the shirt around her to cover her chest so that she would look a little less degraded, and she said, “That’s right, sir. We had sex. It was fun, at least until you came in.”
Mr. Davis had worn an expression of righteous anger before Jeannie had spoken those defiant words. Now his stern face became even sterner and he strode forward toward the teacher’s desk so that she cowered back, trying to button her shirt without looking, because she couldn’t take her eyes off the alarming sight of the principal’s advance.
“No, Miss Rendoski,” he said in a cold, even voice. “Don’t button your shirt up. Take it off. And your bra, and your skirt. Then turn around and bend over the desk with your arms straight out in front of you. I’m going to show you and your boyfriend what happens to bad girls.”
“Sir…” Mike tried again, from his position against the wall, where Jeannie noticed that he stood right next to the place her panties had landed.
“Not a word out of you!” Mr. Davis thundered. “It’s clear to me who’s responsible for the loss of this girl’s innocence—and it’s not you. But you should know enough not to give into the temptation a girl like Miss Rendoski poses, when she lets your hand up her skirt. You’re in as much trouble as she is, even if you’re wise enough not to get punished the way she’s about to be. Pick up those panties and hand them to me.”
The principal turned back to Jeannie, who had frozen in place, her face as hot as an oven.
“Well, at least you’re blushing,” Mr. Davis said, scorn practically dripping from his curled lips. “That means we haven’t failed you completely.” He looked back at Mike, who had meekly picked up Jeannie’s panties, the ones that had gotten so wet when she was thinking about meeting him here for a quick fuck before cheerleading practice. The principal put his hand out peremptorily, and Jeannie’s ‘boyfriend,’ who lost his already weak claim on her heart in that moment, dropped the underwear into Mr. Davis’ palm.
Jeannie’s blush somehow became even more ferocious at the sight of her panties in the principal’s grasp. No, the Educational Facility and its teachers hadn’t failed her, if success meant Jeannie somehow having learned to think of panties as a terribly embarrassing thing, never to be seen except by your husband, and then only when you couldn’t keep him from looking.
‘Husband’ represented a vague concept for an EF girl, of course. As a senior, a class that EF students didn’t enter until after their eighteenth birthdays, Jeannie had taken the first-semester Wellness course that accompanied the contraceptive injections. Any girl who wanted to sign up for a New Modesty community could get her rent and food subsidized, provided she promised to make a sincere effort to find a husband according to New Modesty standards. When the teachers talked about ‘husbands’ and ‘wives,’ that was what they meant.
In Wellness, though, one of the single-sex courses at the EF, Jeannie and the other girls had learned that the corporate laws had created other avenues for young women to find their place in society. Each of those career paths, however, had in the last few years of sharp economic downturn, received modifications designed to ensure that the precious resource entrusted to young women—their burgeoning and potentially wild sexuality—would be protected. Marriage might not lie immediately in an EF girl’s future, if she qualified for and chose one of those careers, but she could expect to have her virginity taken by a man who knew how to take care of her.
The sight of a girl’s panties might therefore be granted to such a man: a ‘husband’ with whom she hadn’t gone to the altar, Jeannie had learned in Wellness. If he had earned the right to see them, and to take them down, he would do so. She should of course feel the natural shame every good girl feels, if her underwear becomes visible. She would feel the even greater shame of nudity, when her husband required it, too, but she would have the security of knowing her ‘husband’—wed or not—could provide for her, and so deserved to claim her in that special, most intimate way.
To let Mike take down her panties, and to have sex with him, represented an obvious and forceful rebellion against all those ideas. Jeannie had felt fine about that, she thought—more than fine: free, elated. But the principal’s command, and the sight of her underwear in his hand, made her tummy turn over and her face pucker. The tears she had kept from falling trickled onto her cheeks.
Part of her wanted to say Please, sir, and beg Mr. Davis’ forgiveness. Jeannie hadn’t heard of another girl getting punished like this, naked in a classroom in front of a boy, but in their senior year girls got paddled in the principal’s office even for comparatively minor infractions like being late to class too often. She wondered, distractedly, whether she could plead with him only to do that, as awful as it seemed when another girl had to stand in class after a paddling, because her bottom hurt too much. Maybe if she took that kind of a punishment, though, she would still look tough to her friends and to herself, while avoiding this mortifying scene in the classroom?
But looking into the principal’s angry eyes she saw no amount of begging would do any good. Her promise to herself, made on the first day of senior year, that she would make an independent life, seemed to blaze up in her heart.
Even as Mr. Davis turned his attention to her panties and began to inspect their gusset, Jeannie knew what she had to do.
“Fuck you, sir,” she said as calmly as she could.
Jake Garrison watched the scene at EF 39 with great interest, from the control center of Selecta Corporation’s Midwest Advanced Guidance Facility. The principal of the EF, Randall Davis, clearly knew his job well, and relished it: Davis made his inspection of the girl’s panties long and thorough. The stain of Jeannie Rendoski’s morning of arousal showed very clearly on the overhead camera that provided Jake with the view on his monitor.
Jeannie’s file had landed in Jake’s inbox that morning.
Jeannie is a clear-cut Beta Plus bad girl prospect, the Institute assessor had written. She is already practically as promiscuous as an EF senior can be. Though she will almost certainly have sex today for just the second time, our models show her having intercourse with at least three more boys before graduation.
The perineal sensor installed at her last GYN visit shows elevated humidity this morning, making it probable that she plans to visit the classroom where she was observed having intercourse last week. Though we don’t have video from the dormitory, the sensor feed indicates at least a minute of masturbation, though without orgasm. The feed from her first coitus shows two small orgasms.
Assessment recommends pickup for Advanced Guidance. Jeannie shows the high-intelligence, strong-willed profile, along with basically submissive sexuality, that AG is designed to foster and to leverage. Left to make her own decisions concerning her future after graduation from her EF, our model indicates that she would have serious difficulty fitting into a workplace environment in which she had to work to develop prosocial skills. If she chose—or were forced into—a job where her intelligence received no stimulation, Jeannie would almost inevitably turn to chemical means of escape, even if the anti-authoritarian streak in her personality did not quickly get her into trouble some other way.
That willfulness comes from the beginnings of her perception of her submissive sexuality, and it makes her unsuitable, at least at her current stage of development, for more challenging entry-level work that might lead to further education. Needless to say, it renders her a very weak candidate for college: despite her intelligence, her grades are abysmal.
Advanced Guidance might seem a drastic measure for a girl like Jeannie, but Assessment thinks that’s because of the sheer newness of the EF senior-testing program. AG is designed to keep a resource like Jeannie Rendoski from going to waste, as we believe she quickly would without such an intervention.
Principal Davis took a long moment, still inspecting Jeannie’s panties, before he responded to the girl’s foul-mouthed retort. When he looked up from the telltale blemish in their gusset, he seemed at first to pretend he hadn’t heard her say Fuck you.
“You made your lewd intentions quite clear in your underwear, Miss Rendoski. Your foul mouth only confirms that you’ve surrendered your innocence to Mr. Barrera here.”
On Jake’s monitor, where the twenty-eight-year-old case officer had video streams from three different cameras, Jeannie’s lips parted soundlessly, in a close-up shot that caught her hot blush very vividly. The principal—well trained in sexual developmental psychology, as required to implement Selecta’s new senior-year program and thus to receive the substantial subsidy—smiled without warmth. Davis knew as well as Jake did that Jeannie Rendoski’s innocence had departed only by the foolish old equivalence of ‘innocence’ with ‘virginity.’
The combination of the girl’s basic personality with the EF’s truly very fine education had resulted in an alchemy in her mind, heart, and soul that some might call modesty. Her innocence would never truly leave her, because her modesty would not allow it. The idea of modesty, as understood by the Institute whose philosophy lay at the core of everything Selecta did—especially including their EF partnerships and their Guidance facilities—had a good deal more complexity than its Victorian origins might suggest.
Young women in Institute programs learned to enjoy their blushes, just as their masters and mistresses did. Miss Jeannie Rendoski would never stop getting hot when a man inspected her panties, but someday she would welcome the heat it brought down below. Now, though, her skin galvanics showed marked distress, even as her pussy got very wet at the principal’s degrading reference to surrendering her innocence.
The number in the upper right corner of the window that showed the close-up had just gone from 7 to 8. The microscopic perineal sensor between Jeannie’s vagina and her anus could detect minute changes in temperature and humidity, as well as the tiny electrical currents on her skin. Together with the algorithms that analyzed her smallest bodily movement from the video feed, they told a story of a Beta Plus’ helpless and highly unwelcome arousal at the imminence of her first corporal punishment.
“Miss Rendoski,” Principal Davis said, putting a good deal more sternness into his tone now, “do as I said. Take off your clothes and bend over the desk. Do I need to call Mr. Myers and ask him to bring the paddle? Between the two of us, we’ll hold you down if we have to and give you what you’ve got coming.”
Jake glanced at the face of the hapless ‘boyfriend,’ Michael Barrera. He had started to shake his head, as if to beg Jeannie not to make the situation worse. He had his own arousal number on his video feed: 9, with a hardness percentage of ninety-five percent. The thought of watching Jeannie get paddled aroused him as much as it distressed him—and of course the arousal added to the distress.
“You can’t do that,” Jeannie said, obviously trying very hard to sound scornful. Jake felt certain that Davis could hear, just as clearly as Jake himself did, the uncertain wavering in her tone. She had very good reason for her diffidence: Principals and their security officers had a great deal of leeway in dealing with the discipline of eighteen-year-old students.
“Oh, I most certainly can,” Davis said. “I found you having sexual intercourse in a classroom. That gives me the authority to punish you in the nude, as you deserve for your shameful behavior.”
Jeannie’s hands fumbled at her shirt, managing to do up a button. She clearly meant to try to brave it out, in hope of making it impossible for the principal to carry out the worst part of his threat.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, doing an admirable impression of a busy adult who just wanted to get to her next appointment. “I’m sorry I spoke—”
Principal Davis had the walkie-talkie he carried at his belt up to his mouth. “Mr. Myers, would you please bring the paddle to Room 137?”
Jeannie’s eyes went wide. Jake could see in her expression how close a plea for mercy had come to the surface, but he knew no Beta Plus would ever beg to be spared a punishment before she had received any training. Someday soon, under his Advanced Guidance, she might plead on her knees to suck Jake’s cock instead of feeling the prison cane across her backside. Today, though, Jeannie Rendoski stood at the very beginning of her bad-girl journey, and no such weakness would escape her lips.
Jake watched the resolution form in Jeannie’s eyes, almost replacing her fear. She turned to Mike.
“He’s bullshitting,” she said with an attempt at confidence that impressed Jake despite himself. The girl had spirit. Once he got her to AGF she would require quite a bit of personal attention. “He wants me to beg and plead and apologize and shit.”
Mike had, by contrast, very little to recommend him as a suitable boyfriend or as anything else. His eyes widened in alarm, then shot over to Davis. Jake felt a tiny bit sorry for the kid; Mike couldn’t avoid his arousal. He would undoubtedly remember forever the moment he saw his girlfriend paddled in the nude for letting him fuck her—as he would inevitably think of it, even though Jeannie’s own raging needs had just as much to do with their illicit sex as his hard young cock. When he had gotten up that morning, Mike Barrera hadn’t expected to have his fledgling masculine dominance awakened this way.
He looked back at Jeannie. “I don’t think so?” he said quietly.
“You’re wise beyond your years, Mr. Barrera,” the principal said.
The door opened, and the burly Ernie Myers, EF 39’s security officer, walked in carrying the old-school wooden paddle with its three holes to permit a harder impact against the miscreant’s backside. Originally intended to be used over a girl’s skirt, it needed expert handling to prevent injury when applied on a bare young bottom like Jeannie Rendoski’s. Thankfully, Randall Davis had the requisite skill, having mastered it over a long career of delivering traditional discipline to youthful offenders. In the Selecta system, an aspiring educator like Davis began with long hours of observation and mentorship in facilities for more hardened offenders. Selecta, in accord with the corporation’s shadowy origin in the Institute, had made a science of giving both dominants and submissives what they needed—especially on Jeannie’s side of the equation, where a girl who fucked in an empty classroom had for example no idea how badly she needed a stern paddling.
“Thank you, Mr. Myers,” Davis said, accepting the paddle from the stern-faced, red-haired man’s hand. “Please help Miss Rendoski remove her clothing. She’s going to be punished in the nude.”
Myers’ eyebrows went up, and he turned to Jeannie. In the close-up Jake watched her lose all hope that Principal Davis had spoken less than the truth about what he had the power to do, when a girl he had found with her panties down and a hard penis inside her pussy decided to mouth off. Her arousal jumped to 9, her heartrate speeding up to one hundred twenty beats per minute.
“You got your little cherry popped, did you?” asked Myers crudely. “You’d better go ahead and take everything off, Jeannie. It’s nothing you haven’t shown to Mr. Barrera here, right? Shown and much more? You don’t want me to have to come over there and really help you.”
Another flash of alarm, with a slight hint of submission, passed across Jeannie’s face. She looked over at Mike, who stood miserably against the wall.
Myers turned to Davis. “They were doing it on the teacher’s desk?”
Davis nodded. “So that’s where I’ll paddle her, of course. Three swats for spreading her knees and three for her foul mouth.”
Mike spoke up. “That’s… you can’t!”
The security officer looked at the kid with amusement. “Do you really think the principal can’t give a girl six in the nude, when she deserves it? You should feel lucky you didn’t mouth off. I’ll be seeing you this evening. Or you can be stupid and say something you shouldn’t, and we can paddle you both right now.”
For a moment Mike looked like he might do it, to make himself feel better, but Jeannie said, “Don’t, Mike.”
Just as Myers, himself a trained Selecta educator, had intended, the threat to Mike had strengthened Jeannie’s resolve. On her sensor feed her arousal dropped back to 8 and her skin galvanics leveled off as her fear came under her control a little more.
Jake smiled. This girl had spirit to spare.
Jeannie Rendoski wasn’t stupid: she didn’t want to earn any more punishment than she already had coming. But she could see that she had no way of avoiding that, now, and so her blazing eyes did their best to conceal the embarrassment the moment truly held for her. She turned around on her heel to face the other side of the room, making the movement as sharp and quietly rebellious as possible, and started to take off her shirt.
“No, Jeannie,” the principal said. “Turn back. We’re trying to teach you to value your modesty. You’ll take off your clothes so we can see everything.”
For a moment, her hands on the button of the shirt she had managed to refasten after Davis’ entrance, Jeannie froze. Her arousal jumped, and a spike on the graph in the screen’s chyron showed a contraction of her vagina: she had clenched at the idea of showing three men her naked pussy, shaved in accordance with EF cheerleading regulations, to keep her tidy in her uniform.
Then, with her eyes on the corner of the room, burning with resentment and dripping slow tears onto her cheeks, she turned and obeyed. The front of her shirt parted and dropped from her shoulders, showing a delightful view of her small breasts, nicely exposed in the helpless tangling of her white school bra, which Jeannie shrugged off now, crossing her arms reflexively over her chest immediately after.
“Take your arms away, Jeannie,” the principal said. “You’ve lost your right to cover yourself. We’ll have a look at those young breasts.”