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The Society

(J is for Julie) Julie joins a very special club
Julie sat in The Society Director's antechamber nervously drumming her fingers on a file folder almost an inch thick. She glanced at her watch. 2:59. She wouldn't have much longer to wait. She had heard about The Society from an old boyfriend. He had been a member before he met her, but he lost his job and couldn't afford the dues anymore. He told her stories she could hardly believe.

The Society was, the way he told it, the ultimate sexual match-making service. They would set members up for blind one-night stands, but with the pairings designed to perfectly compliment the desires of the people involved. He had told her that he had the best sex of his life while he was a member. As she looked back, she realized that in a way, that's why their relationship didn't last. He had had a taste of perfection, and nothing else would quite ever measure up. For her, that was as good a recommendation as she could think of. She had to experience it for herself. After she had broken up with him, they remained friends, and she approached him asking about how to join. He said he would refer her. That was a year and a half ago.

A moment later, as if on cue, the light on the door changed from red to green and a muted chime sounded. Julie took a deep breath. This was it. She had waited for this moment for over a year. Had prepared for weeks. It had to be perfect. She stood up. She was dressed in a conservative business suit and skirt, her long red hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head. She had white stockings on and a pair of white 3 inch heels. She put on an air of confidence and strode towards the door and opened it.

The Director was a middle aged, bald, slightly German looking man. He was seated behind a large oak desk. In front of it was a padded arm chair. He gestured Julie towards it. She shut the door and took her seat.

The Director spoke, his voice was slightly high pitched, and had a European accent Julie couldn't quite identify.

"Good afternoon, miss Julie."

She cleared her throat and answered nervously, "Good afternoon."

"At this point in the application process, it goes without saying that you are familiar with The Society, its purpose, and its rules. And yet, I feel the need to stress the importance of them. The Society is an organization dedicated to serving our members' needs. In order to do so safely and effectively, we must insist on a certain openness on behalf of our members and applicants. In order to function, we must know you better than you know yourself. You have had a hint of this in the meticulousness of the application you are holding now." Julie glanced down at the folder in her hand.

"Knowing our members as well as we do imposes on us a burden to jealously safeguard our members' privacy. No one outside this office will know anything of you beyond your first name. At the same time, you must not seek to invade the privacy of any other Society member. Our members are like you. They have lives outside of The Society as you do. Those lives are none of your concern any more than your life is any of theirs."

"Safety is, of course, paramount. You've undergone medical screening. It is imperative that you do not invalidate that screening through inappropriate contact with those outside of The Society. If you self-report any incidents, you will be suspended for an appropriate quarantine period and re-screened before being able to resume any activities. Failure to self-report any incidents, or indeed violation of any of the rules of The Society will result in immediate expulsion. There will be no appeal. Rest assured all the rules and restrictions of The Society apply equally to every member, regardless of race, gender, orientation or any other factor."

"You will be contacted via electronic mail with assignments. You are expected to be punctual. There is a phone number to call in emergencies. After, you are invited, but not required, to share any feedback you have, also via electronic mail. You will have no other contact with anyone in this office. I will be the first, and last, Society representative you will ever meet."

"Your first annual dues of $9250 have already been electronically debited from your savings account. Please do not be alarmed." Julie's eyes grew as big as saucers when she heard this. Her financial details were in the bundle of paper she had in her hands. How did they know? "It is April, please be prepared for your dues to be collected again next April 1st. We will send you a reminder in March."

"Before you turn in your application for review, please take a moment to think and, if necessary, revise any of your answers."

The Director fell silent and leaned back in his chair. Julie looked down at the folder in her hands. Everything about her was written down. Her complete history - medical, educational, financial, sexual, occupational... There were free-form response sections detailing every proclivity she had, sexual and mundane. She had been more open about herself in the papers in the folder than she had ever been with anyone in her life. It was a complete dossier. It was Julie, in paper form. She could not think of anything that was in there that was incorrect or incomplete.

She cleared her throat and spoke, trying to make her voice as determined as she could. "No, Sir. I don't believe there's anything I need to change."

"Very well. Please leave your application on the desk on your way out. You will be contacted on its disposition when it is processed. Good day."

She stood and walked over to the desk. She was about to turn everything about herself over to a man she had never met, who represented an organization so secret that it even had no real name, and yet had a membership waiting list that took her longer than a year to wait through. She hesitated a moment in front of the desk before her trembling hands placed the folder on the corner. She looked once more at the man behind the desk. He showed no reaction at all. She turned around and walked to the door and left.


Two weeks went by. Julie buried herself in her work and tried not to think about The Society. The weekends were hardest. She watched TV and went to the gym between checking her e-mail.

Finally, Friday evening she checked her e-mail and discovered a new one. The subject was simply "Society activity: Saturday Evening." She quickly opened it and read it, her heart beating quickly. It was dry and perfunctory. It simply said she was to go to a particular address at 7:00 pm. She could dress how she liked - she would be changing into appropriate attire when she arrived. Further instructions would await her upon her arrival. She quickly looked up the address on the Internet. It was in an industrial section of town. It would take her 20 minutes to get there, but she decided she would leave at 6:00. She didn't want to be late for her first... activity? What would it be? The e-mail said nothing other than when and where. She fixed herself a frozen dinner and sat down in front of the TV. She watched, but her mind wouldn't allow her to pay attention to anything beyond her upcoming appointment. The suspense was killing her. Finally, she turned off the TV and went to bed. Her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were that if they knew her as well as they did, then her deepest fantasy might very well be played out tomorrow night. She thought this and her pussy started to feel warmer.

She spent Saturday cleaning her apartment to try and keep busy while she waited. She set an alarm for 5:00 to remind her to get ready, but by 11:00, she realized how unnecessary that was going to be. The day crawled by as she busied herself. Finally, at 5:00, she turned her energies to getting herself ready. She took a long shower and spent a long time brushing her hair. She decided to leave it down and wear just jeans and a plain T-shirt. After all, the note - which she had re-read at least a dozen times - had said that she would be changing anyway.

At 6:00, she got in her car and drove to the address in the e-mail. The neighborhood was almost deserted. She had no trouble finding parking on the street nearby. It was 6:30. Should she go early? She decided to wait in the car, but after 20 minutes, she couldn't wait any longer. She got out, locked the car, and walked over to the front door of the building.

The door was unremarkable. It had a simple doorknob and a sign that said "main entrance." She walked in and the door shut behind her.

She was in a dark room. Ahead of her in the middle, a light in the ceiling shone on a spot on the floor, which contained a coat rack, and a stool with a pile of clothes on it, topped with an envelope. She walked towards the spot and saw that the envelope had the word "Julie" printed on it in beautiful calligraphy. She tore open the envelope. The paper inside bore the same calligraphy and simply said, "Undress completely. Put on the apparel supplied, leaving your clothes on the coat rack. Sit on the stool and wait."

She put the note down. She was to change here? She looked around. Was she alone?

She said, "Hello? Is anyone else here?" She waited for a moment for a reply, but there was none.

She started to undress, hanging her clothes, as instructed on the coat rack. She then turned to the pile of clothing. It was a push-up bra, a fuzzy white sweater with a plunging neckline, a pleated scotch-plaid skirt, white cotton panties, long white socks, saddle shoes, and a black hairband. Her pussy started to tingle slightly as she realized she was being dressed up as a school girl. Her hands trembled as she put on the outfit. Everything fit her perfectly. As she thought that, she said to herself that she shouldn't be surprised, given how much The Society knew about her. When she was changed, she sat down on the stool. She held her hands together in her lap and fidgeted nervously.

Suddenly, behind her a loud school bell rang for a second. She could see the lights reflected on the wall ahead of her. She turned around and now, where before there had been shadow, there was now what gave every appearance of a school classroom. There was a blackboard on the wall, with a large desk situated in front of it. In front of the desk, facing it were a dozen or so school desks, arranged in neat rows and columns. On the wall to the side was a bookshelf.

Standing in front of the desk was a man. He looked like he was in his late 40s. He had brown hair with some grey in it and a mustache. He was in a tan suit. Before Julie had a chance to think, he shouted, "Miss Julie! Take your seat! You're late!"

Her face felt flushed and she got up from the stool and ran over. As she approached, she saw the blackboard had "Mr. Stevens" written in the upper corner. She raced over to the student desk in front of him and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stevens," and smiled.

He went on, "Alright, Miss Julie. Do you have your homework?"

The smile disappeared from her lips. Her stomach twisted. She stammered out, "H-Homework? No. I don't have it."

"Miss Julie, this is the fourth time this month you've not turned in your homework. Clearly your last reminder was insufficient. I'm going to have to use the cane this time. Stand up!"

Julie felt a combination of dread and excitement wash over her. Her pussy felt warm and wet. She stood up, held her hands in front of her, with her toes pointed slightly inward.

He walked over to the desk, leaned over and pulled out a thin rattan cane. He came back around to where Julie was standing and barked, "Now, lean over this desk. Stick your bottom out, legs apart, and keep your head up."

She hurriedly complied. He moved behind her and flipped her skirt up over her back and then hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and lowered them to just below the bottom of her ass cheeks. She bit her lip and whimpered.

He moved to her left and spoke again, "I'm going to give you four, and you're to count them. Is that understood?"

She quietly said, "Yes, sir!"

He tapped the cane against her ass, almost teasing her with it. She shivered. The cane disappeared and just as suddenly, she heard the whoosh and then felt a single line of burning fire straight across the middle of her ass. She screamed, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaugh! ONE!"

He barked, "One, SIR!"

She corrected herself, "One, SIR! Yes Sir!"

He waited a second or two, and then she again heard the whistle of the cane and then a second fiery stinging line appeared higher up on her ass. Again, she cried out, "Aaaaaah! TWO SIR!" Tears began to stream down her face.

The third stroke came quicker, surprising her. She cried out, and added "THREE SIR!" Her voice started to sob, but before she could prepare, the fourth stroke arrived immediately just as soon as she had finished saying "sir." It broke through her reserve and she started sobbing loudly, just managing to add "FOUR, SIR!"

She relaxed and cried for a moment before she felt him pull her upright. He turned her around and kissed her roughly. She kissed him back, not caring that neither of them were in character anymore. She felt down to his crotch with her hands and found his erect cock inside his pants. He pushed her down to her knees and she unzipped his pants and freed his manhood briefly before taking it in her mouth. She wrapped her tongue lovingly around the head of his cock while she stroked his shaft with her hands.

He moaned and ran his fingers through her hair, dislodging the hairband, sending it clattering to the floor. Suddenly, he stopped her, and with a hoarse whisper told her to bend over the desk again. As she did, he frantically pulled her panties down the rest of the way and dropped his own pants. His erect cock bobbed straight out, and he steered it between her striped ass cheeks, finding her sopping went cunt. As he pushed into her from behind, his thighs hit the welts on her ass. She felt the simultaneous pain and pleasure that drove her insane. She met his thrusts with her hips, and they started a frantic rhythm. They fucked each other quickly, almost desperately, until at last she cried out, and her throbbing pussy fluttered around his cock, driving him past the brink of his own orgasm, making him groan and pour his hot seed into her.

They both panted for a moment as they recovered. Finally, he pulled his shrinking cock out of her and reached down to pull up his pants. She stood up and her skirt fell down, covering her nakedness. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She returned the kiss. He broke away and said, "Thank you."

She wasn't sure what the protocol was, if there even was one. She simply replied, "Thank you, too."

He smiled and let go of her, turned and walked out a door in the far wall. As he did, the light over the classroom faded, and the light that was over the coat rack and stool returned. She understood. The scene was over. It was time to change and go home.

She changed and left, going back out the front door to her car. She had to sit down gingerly, the welts in her ass were going to be tender for a day or two, she thought.

She got back home and took a shower, running cool water on her tender ass, dreamily recounting the events of the evening in her mind. When she was done, she dried off and climbed into bed and fell asleep quickly.

She got up the next morning feeling invigorated. She thought back on her evening last night. It was everything she had hoped for. If she had any critiques, it was that he broke character after the caning. She pulled up her email and saw another one from the same address with a subject of "Society activity: feedback form."

She spent a few minutes answering the questions. It felt odd, critiquing a sexual experience in a way that was not unlike a customer service form. She smirked, "How was our service?" indeed, she thought. She gave good marks, noting that her only real complaint was his breaking character.

As she was about to send it, she thought to herself, "Wait... he was a Society member too. I wonder if he's filling one of these out on me?" She thought back on her... performance? What was his score going to be of her? She smiled. It didn't matter. She would probably never see "Mr. Stevens" again. Who would the next one be? What game would they play? And, most importantly, how long would she have to wait before she got another e-mail?

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright 2012-2016, Sensei. All rights reserved.

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