Sizing Down

Emily returned home from Vennel City only eight days before the new semester at Rattangrove began. That made for a mad scramble of ordering textbooks, having her uniform dry-cleaned, replacing her worn-out formal black shoes, and shopping for new panties, socks, and shirts all to Rattangrove’s exacting specifications. Last year what she had brought to Rattangrove had barely filled her backpack, but this year her father had grunted as he heaved the heavy suitcase into the trunk of his car. The drive felt just as long as it had been last year, but Emily wasn’t nervous; she was eager to see her friends, to walk the campus, meet her new roommate, and the list went on. She had been looking eagerly over her father’s shoulder at the Great Hall as he had given her one last long hug, warned her to behave, and fetched her suitcase. She had arrived.

The first day at Rattangrove was different as a sophomore. The freshmen girls would arrive tomorrow, just as Emily had a year ago. Most would be locked into white Rattangrove-pattern cages; all would have to endure the pain tolerance test, bent at the waist and bottom bared for the full range of Approved Disciplinary Instruments to find those most effective at bringing them each to tears. Emily was grateful she didn’t have to go through that again. Once had been more than enough.

Along with the new freshmen, tomorrow would also bring the Welcome Festival. Her friend Kayla, now the captain of the soccer team, had asked her to help with the tent for the Rattangrove Rangers; both to recruit new players from the freshman class as well as to get people out to watch their first game. Not that it was difficult, the soccer team always drew large crowds in good weather. Emily was looking forward to it, but that was tomorrow; while she didn’t have to repeat the pain tolerance test, there were still some things she had to do before the new semester could begin.

Just as she had last year Emily handed her heavy bag over to the towering security guard as she entered the Great Hall. Every bag was searched when a student arrived, but she had nothing to hide. The guard wrote her name on a small blue tag, tying it to the handle of the suitcase, before easily lifting it onto the conveyor belt behind him one-handed. Carefully, he typed her name into a computer. After a moment, the small terminal whirred and spat out a card. The guard picked it up, carefully read it, and finally held out to her. “You’ll need to check in at Agnes Hall, miss. For um... fitting. Then over to the East Dorms, third floor.” Emily took the card and moved down the hallway to let the girl standing behind her hand over her own bag for inspection.

The card was simple and elegant, printed on a stiff powder blue stock that felt like linen; embossed with the Rattangrove crest. It had a small map of the campus on the back while the front had her class schedule with room numbers, her assigned dorm, the time and place of the welcome assembly tomorrow, and finally her requirement to report for a cage fitting before the new school year began. Despite her eagerness to return, this was not something she was looking forward to.

Still, she didn’t have to report for her fitting immediately. While the festival wasn’t until tomorrow, the centre of campus was still a buzz of activity. A stage was being set up on the wide central lawn, tents and booths for clubs and businesses were being erected haphazardly wherever there was open space; returning students all in their dark blazers mixed with porters and workmen busy setting up for the festival. Despite the hubbub a few shops were already up and running selling their wares. Emily grabbed an iced tea and a small paper bag of fries from a food cart and sat down on a bench to eat.

Emily sat quietly and people-watched as she ate. Students were streaming through the Great Hall at a regular pace; a river of blue uniforms that flowed into the courtyard, off towards the dorms, as often as not towards Agnes Hall. A few, as she had, found their way onto the central lawn, but most seemed to be waiting for the festival to begin in earnest. She finished her fries, tossed the greasy bag in the garbage, and checked her phone. She had texted Kayla, Madison, Khin, and Aurora as her father had unloaded her suitcase, but it appeared she was the first to arrive. She thought about heading over to investigate her dorm, but eventually she joined the stream of students slowly walking towards Agnes Hall. May as well get this over with.

Agnes Hall was a one story, windowless building that contained no lecture halls, dorms, or labs; it combined the charm and architectural grace of a prison block with that of a seedy strip mall; even the creeping vines that grew on nearly every other building on campus seemed to avoid it. Despite being a particularly uninspired design of the early nineteen-eighties, it was mostly inoffensive; it held the Students Union, the main security office, campus lost and found... and cage fitting. In theory, the Chastity Office was open 24 hours a day, to help with any cage-related concerns (except, of course, the most pressing one) but most students only visited once a year. One day per year they were unlocked, measured, and refitted with a slightly smaller cage to ensure the most secure fit possible.

Emily walked through the foyer and across the lobby to a plain white door. Last year she and Aurora had come to Agnes Hall through the back hallways and tunnels that connected most of the buildings on campus. This was Emily’s first time going through the front doors. The small waiting room was dated, if sparkling clean. Walls of what were probably supposed to be a warm, reassuring taupe looked sickly, clashing with pale green and white tile and harvest gold doors, trim, and counter tops. Emily handed her card over to the receptionist. “Take a seat, it won’t be long.” The woman told her with a nod to the rows of black plastic chairs filling the waiting room.

Emily took a seat, and looked around the room; a small TV mutely displayed school announcements, while fifteen or so young women in matching dark blue uniforms sat alone or in pairs, heads full of worry. Emily shared their unease. Had she shrunk, locked away for so long? Would her new cage be even smaller? How much smaller? A few of the young women waiting sat in pairs; most sat alone. There was no conversation, just the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the squeak of a shoe on tile, or the sharp scrape of a chair to break the queasy, anxious silence as girls were called, one at a time, into the privacy of the back room.

Despite the receptionist’s assurances, it was a long, awkward wait. Girls were called one at a time, walked up to the counter, and guided down a short hallway, from which they returned a quarter of an hour later red-faced and flustered. Emily watched as gradually every face she recognized in the waiting room from when she arrived went ahead of her, replaced by new arrivals, until finally she heard her own name called. She followed a silent orderly past reception, down the hall, and into a room she vividly remembered from last year.

“You can get undressed.” The orderly told her. “Put your clothes in the drawer for contraband inspection.” She barked, before departing. Emily undressed quickly as she surveyed the room; it was broadly as she remembered. A pair of examination tables stood in two corners of the room, while a long stainless-steel counter and sink ran along the wall opposite. The back wall looked like a giant filing cabinet; rows and columns of metal drawers, every one full of chastity cages of all sizes but of varying colours. Pink like she wore; white for the freshmen girls in their first semester; green for the try-hard Dean’s List girls, and then the punishment cages in yellow, red, and black. Emily finished undressing, carefully placed her uniform into the metal drawer, and took a seat on the thin, waxy, white paper atop one of the examination tables. Alone, she waited.

Mercifully this time it was a much shorter wait. No more than two minutes later the door clicked open and a familiar and kindly face met Emily’s nervous glance with a smile. Nurse Singh, who had administered Emily’s one and only prostate milking last year was also to handle her cage fitting this year. Emily let out a sigh of relief. She was one of the best nurses she could have hoped for. Nurse Singh was a soft-spoken, sarcastic young woman with dark brown eyes and wonderfully soft and warm hands. She nodded and her eyes lit up in recognition; “Emily, right?” She closed the door behind her without waiting for an answer, walked over to the steel workbench and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Come over here, dear. The first part of the exam is easier if you’re standing up.”

Emily hopped off the bench and walked across the chilly tile floor. Dressed in nothing but her candy pink cage it was hard not to feel vulnerable and exposed, but Nurse Singh had never been anything but kind and professional with her, even… even when she had milked her. “Hands folded behind your back, please.” Nurse Singh instructed her with a confident smile. As Emily complied the nurse reached into her pocket and withdrew a small metal key. The keys to Rattangrove’s cages all looked identical, but Emily immediately knew it was her key and her mouth went dry at the sight.

Nurse Singh looked up and held Emily’s eyes for a long moment. A warning. She was only a few years older than Emily herself, a little taller, and maybe ten pounds heavier, but the power she held, manifested in the tiny silver totem of Emily’s key left no doubt who was in control. The nurse’s slim fingers slid the key into the titanium locking pin that held the tube and ring of Emily’s cage together and with a twist and a sharp CLICK Emily’s cage was unlocked for the first time since she had been forced to give up her Motivator cage back in May. Emily’s shoulders relaxed at the sound. After so long… the cages weren’t supposed to seize, and titanium couldn’t rust… but she showered in it, slept in it, studied, ate, exercised, and lived in it every day. It wasn’t unthinkable that maybe someday the key just wouldn’t work, but today it had. That was something.

Emily shivered as the tube slid away from her skin and couldn’t stifle a moan as the nurse’s gloved hand brushed against her clit. It had been so long since she had been allowed to get hard, to stroke... Had it really been since the first of March that she had felt freedom, real freedom, for a few wonderful moments? Six whole months with her clit locked away in a tiny steel cage, her only respite a couple of weeks in her Motivator cage and a prostate milking from Nurse Singh back in April? Emily was used to the denial, but six months was a very long time, even for her.

She looked down at her pink little shaft, limp and tingling in the chilly air. She had always been small; her tip had never hung lower than her perpetually-heavy little bells, but had she always been this small? Her skin was pale, shrivelled; even compared to her already-milky complexion her clit looked as if it had never seen the sun; which wasn’t really that far from the truth. The nurse set her old cage on a metal tray and took out a fabric measuring tape. Emily watched mutely as she wrapped the tape behind her scrotum and up over the base of her shaft, exactly where the ring would sit and drew it tight. “Your ring size usually doesn’t change unless you’ve gained or lost a bit of weight, but it’s better to check.” The nurse told her.

Emily whimpered at the lightest touch as the nurse checked her ring size and then placed the tip of the tape into the little hollow above her clit and carefully ran the fabric down to the tip, her finger tracing along the ribbon from base to tip. Although admittedly a brief journey, even this light contact was excruciatingly intense after so long, and Emily felt her every muscle and sinew tense and quiver with the sensation. The nurse chuckled and looked up at her. “Been a while?” She asked.

Emily nodded, a little ashamed. She hesitated for a moment, but Nurse Singh could be trusted… probably. She licked her lips with a dry tongue. “Since... since March. I didn’t get out all summer…” Her voice trailed off, remembering the awful details. She was happy leaving it there. The nurse didn’t reply immediately, but she gave her a sympathetic smile as she returned to her work.

“That would certainly explain the shrinkage we’re seeing.” She mused, still smiling. She looked up and pointed at a chart on the wall. Penile Atrophy Over Extended Periods of Chastity. It showed a flaccid penis in various stages of getting smaller over time, with the mathematics of how each was achieved in terms of lock time and cage size. The numbers were beyond her but that wasn’t really the point. Emily had never been as large as the first image, and the nurse had indicated a depressingly... advanced... image for her current situation. “You’re really over-achieving, Emily. You’re ahead of nearly every sophomore I’ve seen so far; some girls even graduate with more size than you have now. The Headmaster is going to be thrilled. In fact…” Nurse Singh examined Emily more closely. “Maybe… but I need to test something first…”

Emily watched with sour anticipation, heart pounding, as the nurse opened a cabinet and withdrew a small aerosol can. “Just lidocaine, nothing to worry about.” The nurse told her. “I need to check your erectile response Emily, but after your summer... I think you need a little help to behave.” The spray was cold and smelt of menthol and eucalyptus. The nurse let it take effect for a minute before looking up at Emily to caution her. Her deep brown eyes were serious. “The spray helps, but you’ll still feel some of this. You will warn me if you’re going to cum so that I can stop, understood?” Emily nodded. “You will keep your hands behind your back and not interfere, or I will cuff you to the table for the test.” Emily nodded again; her mouth dry. Was the nurse really going to...?

She was. Nurse Singh squeezed a generous dollop of clear lubricant from a tube on top of the metal counter onto the fingers of her right, gloved hand. Very gently, with only her thumb and two fingers, she began squeezing and stroking Emily’s clit. The sensation was... powerful. The numbing spray was certainly taking the edge off but this was vastly more than Emily had felt in half a year. It was incredible, but… but as good as this felt, as much as she had assured Madison that she would ‘spring back to life’ as soon as the cage was off, she was not ‘rising to the occasion’ as she expected

HEY! Emily screamed at herself in her mind. WAKE UP! I know it’s not perfect, but this is your time to rise and shine! She felt a cold wave of fear pass through her. Had the summer... broken her? She had noted, and worried, about how she hadn’t pushed against the cage the way she expected, almost no matter what Madison had done, but there had definitely been some moments… Occasionally… Once even without Madison’s teasing…

But…

She was unlocked!

Why wasn’t it working?

It SHOULD be working! Nurse Singh was gorgeous, and while the lidocaine was reducing the sensation, this was still so much better than she remembered.

Why wasn’t it working?

Emily closed her eyes and tried to slow her heartbeat. Think about Madison. Her round, firm, bottom, her long, coltish legs, the way Madison’s sun-kissed skin felt as it was pressed against her own. The way Madison had ground her body against the cage, never minding Emily’s size, but always commenting on it... she could smell Madison, taste her, picture every inch of her. Nothing. She tried thinking of Khin, of Kayla… even Aurora… nothing.

The nurse gave a small giggle, and met Emily’s eyes. “She’s so cute…” The nurse cooed up at her, gazing up at Emily with an impish grin. “Of course… if you can’t get stiff at all, we have cages for that too, but I think you can still manage a little for me, if you try.” The nurse changed her grip, giving Emily more than just a thumb and two fingers; now she was stroking Emily the way she stroked herself when unlocked. The sensation wasn’t a great deal more powerful, thanks to the spray, but it was enough. Emily felt the once-familiar stirring as her petite member filled with blood, slowly standing away from her body.

Once reawakened, and with the nurse’s somewhat clinical encouragement, Emily managed to get hard enough that the nurse stopped stroking to measure again. Emily looked away as she drew the cloth measuring tape across her skin; she didn’t want to know. By the time Emily looked back the nurse had set down the tape and was nearly finished her notes. She gave her another warm smile. That was worrying. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what they were testing for, but in this particular case she’d rather fail.

The nurse gave her a gentle pat on the bottom. “Alright. One last test before we lock you back up. Some girls find this uncomfortable, so be warned.” Emily swallowed as the nurse took her petite stiffness in her hand and firmly squeezed. The lidocaine meant she saw more than she felt, despite her body’s best efforts she was far from rock hard. She was certainly erect-ish, but she was spongey, soft, and malleable. The nurse’s tight grip was uncomfortable and she let out a miserable whine, making the nurse chuckle.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s not permanent damage… not yet, anyway.” The nurse gave her an entirely unnecessary caress as she took her hand away, earning her another moan. “You be good this year and earn your unlocks every month and she’ll be a bit more functional by Christmas.” Emily seized on the tiny scrap of hope, her spirits lifting. “Still, you’re soft enough that a fourth-year cage won’t do you any harm.” The nurse released her just as her hopes came crashing back to earth. “Hands back on your head. I’ll be right back.” She winked at Emily as she stood, walked to the wall of drawers, opened one, and withdrew a small pink cage. “In fact, it should do you a world of good.” Her smile had disappeared and Emily felt cold.

“We normally wait until you’re a little later in your... progress before we give you one of these, but you’re already hitting all the markers for it.” The nurse explained as she used the electric epilator torch to sear away Emily’s public hair. It didn’t hurt, but anywhere that the numbing spray hadn’t reached it felt sharp and prickly. It would keep her pubic hair from growing back, meaning she never had to unlock to shave. “Your last cage was a millimetre and a half longer than you are flaccid,” the nurse explained as she worked; “You need a little more space early on so you don’t do any real damage to yourself when you try to get hard. This cage is the opposite; it’s a little shorter than you are now, to encourage shrinkage.” She paused as she heard Emily make a low, strangling sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, don’t worry… there’s no danger of real harm since your erectile response is so low. It’ll just help you get to that perfect size a little sooner.”

Emily tried not to think about being even smaller as the nurse brushed away the singed hair, applied a sterilizing gel, and locked her clit into its new, semi-permanent home for the next year. It was noticeably smaller. Tiny... Emily groaned. Madison was going to have a field day with this when she saw it...

“Couldn’t... couldn’t it be a little bigger?” Emily asked, very softly. She knew that this was Rattangrove policy, that the nurse probably couldn’t really help, but… Emily was attending Rattangrove so that she could buy her key back one day. That was the whole point! Was it worth all this trouble, all of this time and effort, if she was too tiny and limp to do anything with her bits when she finally had her freedom?

Nurse Singh chuckled as she took off her latex gloves, threw them in the bin, and put on a fresh pair. “It’s not so bad, Emily. It’s actually a lot more comfortable once you don’t really strain anymore; and the school won’t make you go smaller than a flat.” She walked Emily over to the examination table again, helped her up, and positioned her on her knees, bottom in the air. It was an even more exposed position. It was how the gorgeous nurse had positioned her to be milked. “I wasn’t as small as you are when I first came to Rattangrove, and I adjusted to the cage just fine.”

“You were a student here?” Emily knew she shouldn’t really be surprised; Rattangrove had a well-regarded nursing program, although it took six years to finish rather than four. Prestigious, but not an option Emily was interested in exploring; four years at Rattangrove was plenty. Still, Nurse Singh had been a locked girl here at Rattangrove? Then joined the Academy herself, to keep generations of future girls locked as well?! It felt like a betrayal

The nurse carefully lubed Emily’s exposed hole. “Oh yes. A few years ago. I finished my four years, all ready to graduate when the Headmaster offered me both a full scholarship for the nursing program here, and a very generous key price for my parents. My dad had gotten… sick… the year before. He couldn’t really work anymore and I really couldn’t say no to the offer… it…” Emily heard her take a deep breath. “It would have been a generous offer and a great opportunity, even if we didn’t need the money.” She answered in a tight voice.

Emily had very little time to think on Nurse Singh’s words before she felt her well-lubed fingers slide inside her. She knew it was just an exam, but this felt incredible... She still had questions but it was hard to think like this. “But... you chose... perma?” It wasn’t the most elegant or sensitive way to phrase it, but the nurse’s fingers were seeking out her sub button and Emily was barely able to form words. She knew that there was a final cage colour… the one students never wore but every locked member of faculty and staff did… the riveted permanent purple cage…

The nurse laughed as she gently stroked Emily’s prostate as part of the final step of her physical; earning a deeply heartfelt moan from the pale brunette. “You really are backed up! Healthy, but I’ll bet you’re eager for October.” Emily just whimpered in response as the nurse explained. “You have to understand, Em. I’d been here for four years by that point; Rattangrove was my home, and the Headmaster offered enough for my key that I couldn’t say no. He offered almost triple what I’d have gotten after I graduated. My parents never have to worry about money again.” She gave Emily’s prostate a gentle push that definitely wasn’t part of the exam but felt wonderful. “Besides; this way I can help you girls with your cages, make sure you’re on the curve like you should be, and maybe show you a little generosity every now and again.”

Emily balled her fists and panted shamelessly as the nurse gently stroked what was slowly becoming her primary erogenous zone for nearly half a minute before withdrawing her fingers and taking off the glove. “All healthy, Em. You should head to your dorm before it gets too late. You won’t be getting out of that little cage next month if you’re caught out after curfew on your first day.” Emily scrambled off the table, thanked the nurse, dressed, and strode down the broad steps away from Agnes Hall still leaking into her panties.

The East Dorms weren’t quite the oldest dormitories at Rattangrove; those were the ancient stone buildings to the West of the Great Hall that were built when the Academy was first founded. They were magnificent buildings designed by the same architect as the Great Hall and built to the same lofty standard. Those rooms were reserved for graduate students, staff whose keys were owned by the school like Nurse Singh, and a few junior or visiting professors. The East Dorms had been built some twenty or thirty years later as part of the school’s first expansion.

Rather than the granite and marble of the Old Dorms, the East Dorms were housed in a handsome five-story building of red brick and white windows. Like most of the older buildings on campus, it was in the heart of the campus, occupying a corner of the University Plaza; the Great Hall to the west and the library to the north. While not as ostentatious as the original dorms it was still beautiful; the first-floor common room and lobby were gorgeous compared to the somewhat shabby rooms she had shared with Madison last year. The floors were polished oak, as were the gently curving staircases leading up to the second floor. A fireplace stood against one wall, still very much in use judging by the stack of fragrant cedar resting in a brass cradle on the hearth, but cold and dark now in the warmth of an early September afternoon. A low, coffered ceiling in the same warm caramel-hued oak as the floors made it seem cozy rather than grand.

This was the Rattangrove Emily had seen in the brochures; the history, the tradition, this building felt like Hartia’s oldest university in the way her old rooms never had. Emily headed up to the third floor, passing sun-faded photographs and paintings on the wall. Some had nameplates; Headmasters long past, student athletes, prefects, Head Porters, and several without nameplates whose past Emily could only guess at. The air in the building felt still, and her footsteps were the only sound as she climbed the stairs.

The third floor was no less grand than the first; wingback chairs in maroon and navy blue as well as tufted leather sofas were arranged around a large brick fireplace. A flat-screen TV hung above the mantle, jarringly out of place and out of time, as was a coffee vending machine in the corner. It was a juxtaposition of twenty first century conveniences crammed into the late nineteenth-century decor. On every wall there were a trio of wooden doors leading to individual rooms; the walls between them papered in deep Rattangrove blue with a fleurs-de-lis pattern in grey. Emily looked around, feeling oddly out of place; was this really her home for the next two semesters?

“H-hello?” She called, hesitantly. At first no-one responded, but after a long moment one of the doors opened and a slightly older girl with very short dark hair stuck her head out of the doorway, looked around, caught sight of Emily, and smiled.

“Oh hi! You’re the first to arrive!” She strode out into the common room holding a clipboard. “I’m April, your Resident Advisor this year.” She stuck out her hand, which Emily shook.

“Emily. Emily Black.” She answered. The answer seemed to cause April a touch of consternation.

“Ah… you’re our transfer then… from Angela’s dorm.” She replied, chewing her lower lip for a moment before brightening again. “Well, normally you girls can pick your room, and your roommate, but you’re a bit of a special case….” She drummed her pencil on the metal clip at the top of her clipboard. “For this year you’ll be in the room next to mine, and you’ll have a roommate in the R.A.T. program as well, being as you’re coming from… that dorm. But next year you’ll be able to choose your roommate.” She tried a cheery smile with her promise of ‘next year’, but it didn’t help.

Emily sighed. Of course. She hadn’t done anything to deserve being placed in the supervisory dorm, or at least she hadn’t been caught doing anything that would have put her there. Before her first semester her parents had written to the Headmaster requesting that she get ‘extra attention’ for her first year, which the Headmaster had decided meant starting her Rattangrove career in the disciplinary dorm.

Emily had felt aggrieved at the time, and had initially struggled to fit in with the rest of her quad. It was a mixed bag of troublemakers: Disciplinary transfers from other schools, academic probation cases, girls in disciplinary cages of all three colours… heck two of the girls she’d roomed with last year had chosen Rattangrove instead of prison. Granted, if she hadn’t been sent to Angela’s dorm, she never would have met Madison, Khin, or Aurora and she certainly wouldn’t have been invited to the Red Cage Society… but still… a RAT as her roommate for the year? Emily felt what had been a bright and beautiful day turn cloudy.

R.A.T.s, or Resident Advisor Trainees were, in Emily’s view, the most obnoxious girls on campus; even worse than the green-cagers. Those girls with their stupid green lapel badges had at least earned them, and if they slipped up, they could lose their privileges very easily. The trainees on the other hand were a different matter. Most students, Emily included, simply called them RATs and avoided them whenever possible.

Emily didn’t really have an issue with the Resident Advisor program; she had come to both respect and care for Angela, her previous RA, a great deal in the end. She had counselled, tutored, broken up arguments, occasionally administered first aid, and of course dealt with disciplinary issues when they arose. Emily hadn’t always appreciated how strictly she dealt with those issues, but she had always appreciated having someone on the quad to help her when she needed it. She also understood, grudgingly, that without Resident Advisor Trainees you’d eventually run out of Resident Advisors, but that didn’t change the fact that RATs were the absolute worst.

It wasn’t like being an RA paid much. They got a small stipend and the school paid for their room and board, plus they got their own room rather than having to share. So, the sort of girl eager to be an RA either wanted something that would look good on her CV, or she was in it for the power. In Emily’s experience it was almost always the latter. Angela had been the strictest RA on campus, but even she had looked the other way on occasion. Keep your grades up and your nose clean, and she would occasionally let a missed curfew or dirty dish left in the sink slide.

RATs of all stripes were all far too eager to show that they deserved the promotion to RA, and would turn you in for the slightest offence. Emily had been caned last year because a RAT had pointed out how scuffed and decrepit her formal black shoes had gotten by the end of the year. Caned. For a uniform infraction. She had brought two pairs of candy pink sneakers as well as a new pair of formal leather shoes this year, just so that never happened again. She was set on shoes, so long as she didn’t end up demoted to a yellow cage or somehow manage to jump up to green, but she would always be deeply distrustful of anyone in the RAT program.

Emily groaned, hoping there would be a way out of this. “Really?”

April gave her a sympathetic look. “Her name is Holly Matthews; she was on my floor last year too, and I recommended her for the program. She’s very nice, extremely motivated, and I’m sure you’ll get along swimmingly, as long as you behave.” She flipped through the papers on her clipboard and handed one to Emily. “If not, these are the rights and responsibilities she has as part of her training.”

Emily’s stomach sank as she read through the list. As part of her release from the Supervision Dorm, Holly was assigned as her roommate for the whole year. She was to ‘counsel Emily with her chastity and denial, help with her schoolwork, emotional well-being, and physical health; with the right to spank her as needed with an implement no more severe than the Residence No. 2 Paddle.’ Emily wanted to tear the page up. A #2 paddle was fairly light by Rattangrove’s standards, but it could hurt just like any other implement.

Emily opened her mouth to protest but April shook her head. “Sorry Emily. Every girl who ‘graduates’ from Angela’s dorm gets a Trainee roommate for a year. It’s not negotiable, unless you want to go back to your old rooms?” Emily shook her head. This was… better than that.

April turned and walked across the common room, giving Emily a very brief tour; keeping the microwave clean, not touching the thermostat, what the Wi-Fi password was; Emily followed her to the door of the room she would be sharing with this ‘Holly’ for the rest of the school year when April paused her tour. “Look. If it helps at all, anything Holly is going to spank you for is something I’d have to punish you for too, so you’re not that hard done by… and if you think she’s being wildly out of line, you can come talk to me. I might agree with her, and spank you myself, but my door is always open if the two of you can’t get along. She’s not exactly a traditional roommate, but I’m your Resident Advisor, okay?”

With that April left Emily alone in the room. Her suitcase was sitting on bed on the left side of the room; a small card stated that it had been inspected and approved with no contents removed. Well, that was a relief at least. She unzipped the suitcase and began unpacking. She hung her soccer team scarf above her bed; a photo of her with Madison, Khin, and Aurora went on the bedside table; she plugged in her phone and laptop, her phone on the nightstand and the computer on the combination desk/dresser next to the bed. Unlike her old room, the East Dorms didn’t have individual bathrooms for each little apartment, so she’d have to get used to showering with the rest of the members of her quad. Not unusual in Rattangrove’s older dormitories, but she’d miss the privacy of sharing a small bathroom with just her roommate.

Emily had only just hung her heavy winter-length skirt in the narrow cupboard in the corner when the door to her room opened and a very tall redheaded girl walked through. Emily had always been slight, but Holly was bigger than her in nearly every sense of the word. She was tall, muscular, and imposing; Madison had been taller and more muscular than Emily too, but Holly was statuesque. She wasn’t quite as tall as Angela, Emily judged, but she was close. Her new roommate took a quick look over the room before looking straight at Emily. She didn’t smile.

“You’re Emily, then?” Emily nodded and her new roommate looked her over from head to toe before she smiled at last. “I’m Holly. Looks like you beat me here. Wasn’t expecting you to be so prompt. Off to a good start already.” She sat down on the bed Emily hadn’t claimed and pulled out her phone, where clearly, she had made notes: “So. Soccer team, one of Angela’s little pet projects last year, middling grades, one trip to the Headmaster last year…” Emily shifted foot to foot, uneasy at hearing her whole first year summed up like this, before she’d even had a chance to say hello. She wondered if April would still let her go back to Angela’s dorm…

Holly continued, either unaware of Emily’s discomfort, or uncaring. “Unlocked every month except April, no disciplinary cage, no formal warnings, maybe a bit too friendly with your former roommate, no declared major…” At this Holly stopped and gave Emily a stern look that made her take a step backwards.

“Please tell me you aren’t another ‘General Studies to get your key back, completely wasting your opportunity for a world-class education’ locked girl.” Emily looked a little guilty as Holly’s eyes narrowed. In her defence it wasn’t unusual not to declare a major until the end of second year; but she really was here entirely because it was the fastest means of buying her key back and earning her freedom. Holly might not approve but it was far from uncommon among Rattangrove students. Still not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Holly sniffed. “Well, that’s changing. Now. She looked over at Emily’s computer. “Let’s get you registered for a proper major. Open the student portal and we’ll get you declared, then I need a damned shower.” Emily considered explaining, or pushing back, but after a heartbeat’s hesitation she sat down at her desk and opened her computer. The screen flicked on, and immediately loaded an image of Emily, nude, red-bottomed, kneeling in the corner, with a handwritten sign taped to her back. Emily snapped the laptop closed as quickly as she could as she felt her face grow hot; it had only been a fraction of a second, but there was no chance Holly hadn’t seen it. The damage was done.

Holly didn’t say anything, but the silence was palpably uncomfortable. Emily felt the need to explain, to deflect, to insert her own narrative before the young woman who was effectively her supervisor this year formed her own opinion. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I… got spanked. On DaddyIssuesCam… at the start of break. Sometimes I like to check… just to see the comments, see who’s watched it… you know…” she stammered.

“I see.” Holly’s voice was steady, calm, but firm. “Well then. Let’s have a look at this video of yours.”

Emily jumped up, nearly knocking the chair over as she exploded out of the seat indignantly. “What? No! You… you can’t!” She put herself between Holly and the computer, but the larger girl made no move to reach for it. “You… I… But…” Emily struggled to find the right way to phrase it.

“I? You? But?” Holly smiled down on her, patient and smug, making Emily furious.

“You can watch it on your own fucking time if that’s how you get your…” Emily saw Holly’s eyes widen and she forced her mouth shut, biting off the end of the sentence. She knew the look on Holly’s face all too well. It was her mother’s own patented ‘Keep talking, just give me a reason to paint those cheeks scarlet for you’ look. She had managed to stop herself from finishing the sentence, but she hoped it had been in time.

The predatory look on Holly’s face faded after a moment and she smiled and flushed a little, surprising Emily. She laughed. “I guess I wouldn’t want anyone seeing me like that either; especially a complete stranger. I’m sorry. “She sat down on her bed and patted the space next to her in a conciliatory manner. “I’m so new at this… I shouldn’t have said it like that. I am going to watch it; the Trainee guidebook says I’m supposed to… but wouldn’t you rather watch it with me so you can tell your side of the story?”

Emily mulled that over. The video was easily searchable under her name, Holly could watch it any time she chose, and her opinion of Emily was going to matter for the next two semesters. She considered both sides for a moment... she hated the idea, but it was probably very slightly better to watch it with her. She steeled herself.

“Fine.” Emily growled.

Holly smiled and slid up to the head of the bed, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out on the bed; once again she patted the space beside her. Emily sighed and climbed onto the bed beside her, balanced her laptop on her knees, and opened the computer. The picture of her nude on her knees, bottom reddened so thoroughly that it was nearly purple, greeted her again. The image was the thumbnail and title card for the video; not her best angle but then there really wasn’t anything she liked about the nearly ninety-minute-long video.

Emily hit play and the video began: “Getting a good turnout” her father said through the laptop’s speakers; Holly set the video to full screen as the camera panned over Emily’s slim, nude form laying over her mother’s broad lap, gripping a paddle that soon would be applied to her still-pale cheeks. Emily had only ever watched the full video once; lying in bed a couple hours after it had been recorded. She broadly knew what was going to happen, the major ‘beats’ of her punishment, but there were sure to be plenty of awful surprises to come.

“Your dad’s not great at this.” Holly said as the camera shakily zoomed in on Emily’s face to capture her heartfelt begging for a different punishment, any different punishment, than being spanked live for the whole world to see. The perspective changed from landscape, to portrait, then back to landscape as her father fumbled with the phone. Emily stayed mute; she had convinced herself that watching it with Holly would be better than her new roommate watching it alone, but she was having strong second thoughts. She wished they’d just get to the spanking itself; the sooner this was over the better.

“Emily, why don’t you tell all the nice folks at home all about why you’re here over my lap today, and how you were disciplined earlier today?” Emily felt sick. She’d forgotten that her mother had made her say it on camera. She buried her face in her hands and pushed the tips of her middle fingers into her ears, she couldn’t see but she couldn’t completely block the sound of her own voice. This was the absolute worst part... if she could just get through this without Holly making some sort of snide comment she could deal with the rest.

“I… I got caught having… having an orgasm without permission. I had a... toy... a vibrator that I wasn’t supposed to have, and I used it to get myself off, when I thought no-one was home… I got the hairbrush from mom, and the strap… I got one of Dr. Magma’s punishment plugs for my time in the corner, and I got truth tablets…” She could hear the change in her voice when the tears started and she could feel the telltale prickle in the corners of her eyes now that more were forming. “…I got truth tablets for lying. And I had to listen to the person who got me the toy be punished for giving it to me… I…I’m so sorry, Maddy…” Emily felt a guilty lump form in her throat, even all these months later and a single tear managed to escape.

Holly paused the video there. “I didn’t know they even still made Truth Tablets.” She said, taking Emily’s wrists in her hands and pulling them down, away from her face. Emily dared, briefly, to meet her eyes, which were now full of concern, at least they seemed to be, Holly looked a little blurry through her watery eyes. “Hey... we don’t have to do this. I can watch it later. We can just… go back to the common room…”

She looked away from Emily, her eyes looking down the bed at her shoes. “I got Truth Tablets a few times growing up...” Holly confessed, a small blush creeping over her cheekbones. “They taste like shit, they get up in your sinuses and it burns, and if you swallow it hurts your stomach, and the taste just sticks around forever...” She tried a smile, which Emily did her best to return. “I’m sorry. I really do want to be a good roommate, you know? Not someone you’re scared of all the time. I’m supposed to help you with school and your chastity and... I really thought I was ready but you’re curled up in the corner of the bed like you’re terrified of me...”

Emily forced her hands to relax. “I didn’t know... nobody told me that being out of Angela’s dorm would mean...”

Holly snorted and finished the thought. “...having a RAT for a roommate?” She smiled as Emily’s eyes widened. “Look, I read your file, you seem like you’re trying your best. I’m sorry I came on a little strong, but you’re only a year younger than me and I thought I needed to be tough?” She sighed. “Can we start over? Why don’t you tell me about yourself, rather than just what’s in your file?”

That broke the ice, and Emily, still a little nervously, told her about growing up in Ruswich, explained how she had ended up in the supervisory dorm and talked about her first year had went. She was... selective... in what she told Holly; glossing over the more intimate parts of her relationship with Madison and leaving out the Red Cage Society entirely. Holly asked questions, and her own personality started to come through; she was a little witty, awkward, maybe a little too serious… but maybe… maybe this wouldn’t be awful. Emily told her about going home, her Motivator cage, and finally, what had happened to lead to the punishment on the computer in front of them.

It was Emily who started the video again. Holly knew what she had done, they’d talked about it, and seeing her be punished like this… well it was only a matter of time before she ended up over the tall redhead’s lap, so it didn’t really matter. Mercifully, the conversation part of her punishment had largely ended, and the spanking itself really began. Emily winced the tiniest bit every time the computer chimed as another tip came in, either adding more paddle strokes or another month of denial. Holly surprised her by putting her arm around her shoulders and giving her a supportive hug. Emily stiffened, and then leaned into it. Idly, she slid a hand down to her bottom and cupped her cheek, remembering just how much her mother’s hand and paddle had hurt.

The video played on, Emily’s whimpers turning to sharp yelps as the paddle snapped down over and over again. Holly paused the video just as the tears really began to flow in earnest. “She’s really laying on with that paddle... do they usually keep you locked at home? I know for some girls it’s just at school.”

“Always.” Emily admitted. She had assumed it was in her file. “This… punishment got me another eight months of denial at home too…”

“Mmmm…” Holly mused, reaching out, the tip of her finger tracing the small pinkness between Emily’s kicking legs on the screen. “I guess I should have guessed by the size of your cage; usually the girls who get out more aren’t quite as small.” She winked at Emily before she had time to protest, and went straight on. “Speaking of, have you already been refitted for this year?” Emily’s eyes widened at the frankness of the question and Holly backed off a little. “Sorry, I’m supposed to check, that’s all.”

Emily grimaced but there really wasn’t anything she could do about it. She flipped up her skirt and pulled down the front of her panties, showing Holly her new cage. “Oh! They went quite a bit smaller for this year...” Holly remarked before blushing. “I… I mean compared to the video…” She stammered as Emily scowled at her.

“It looks really cute on you, though.” Holly still had her arm around Emily’s shoulders and she gave her a sisterly squeeze. “And I’m happy that you went on your own, without me having to ask.” She started the video again as Emily kicked and squirmed and cried and the paddle cracked down. Her father had figured out the camera by now, and the screen was filled with a steady video of a very sorry Emily learning a tough lesson over her mother’s lap. The camera left nothing to the imagination as she struggled; her cage, her breasts, the little hole between her reddening cheeks, it was all on display.

Which is why it shouldn’t really have surprised her when she noticed a certain stirring at the front of Holly’s skirt. “It’s an adorable little cage, Emily” Holly praised her without pausing or looking away from the video; “But I really don’t know how you locked girls stand it.”

Artwork by VoidNosferatu