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Vice-principal Thoreau, the Disciplinarian, said, "Well, earlier we covered some Anatomy, so I think it's time and then some for a little Physiology. As you can see, Rachel's vagina is quite slick with lubrication due to arousal caused by physical stimulation and significantly enhanced by voyeuristic and submissive tendencies. "In other words, her pussy is wet because she's horny, and she's horny because we've been playing with her pussy and, on some level, she enjoys displaying herself and being punished." The audience laughed, and Rachel once again did her best to sink through the table. The vice-principalâ€"no, the Disciplinarianâ€" was talking about her like she was a piece of meat. Worse, like she was a slut who enjoyed this. And the worst of it was that he might be right. Through the shame and embarassment, she had to admit, being horny felt good, and there was... a certain thrill to the situation. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, trying to deny it, and missed what the Disciplinarian was saying. "...with that. In any case, let's see what happens if we increase her arousal." The Disciplinarian turned back around to face Rachel, and gave her an almost-friendly smile. In another place and time, that polite face might have made her smile back, but after what had happened so far, she shivered in fear. Whatever the reason for that smile, it couldn't possibly bode well for her. It was, therefore, surprise that greeted the vice-principal's next action. With exquisite delicateness, he ran a finger up the cleft between her legs, sending another shiverâ€"this one of pleasureâ€"through her body. His finger slid up and down her treasure, gathering the moisture that had subversively collected there during the earlier punishments. When it was completely coated in her juices, Mr. Thoreau gently traced his finger up to the top of her slit, and with fast but gentle precision ran it around her clit. Rachel's body jerked as every muscle tensed simultaneously. She had never imagined that something could feel this good, and she certainly hadn't expected to feel this way here, now, so soon after feeling the Disciplinarian's wrath. The finger continued on, ringing that wonderful little bit of her body once, twice, three times. Each stroke increased the pleasure she felt, and deep inside her she could feel something building. She couldn't put a name to it, but it was there, growing slowly but surely with every delightful twinge she felt. Slowly, almost regretfully, Mr. Thoreau withdrew his finger. Rachel flexed her body, trying desperately to follow that beautiful finger as it pulled back, but to no avail. She looked up at Mr. Thoreau's face, pleading, but the harsh mask of the Disciplinarian looked back and she blinked in confusion. "So," said the vice-principal, turning around to face the audience. "As you can see, even from such brief additional stimulation, Rachel's lower lips have swelled and deepened in color, and she is leaking additional lubrication. I would say that my efforts at producing additional arousal were quite successful." On the monitor, an increasingly embarassed Rachel saw the Disciplinarian take over again. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Longtail?" Rachel froze. No. No, no. No, no, no, no, no, NO! Not that_!_ Despite her mental pleas, her fears were confirmed as the audience camera focused in on a fur in the front row, and with a deliberately loud voice, her father replied, "Certainly. But surely you could do even better, Mr. Thoreau. This is, after all, a school, so I think you should give your audience a most comprehensive demonstration. And perhaps drill my daughter's lesson a bit deeper in the process, hmm?" Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit... No other thought could escape the pure panic in Rachel's head. Her father knew about the punishment, of course, he'd had to sign the permission slip. And on some level, Rachel had realized that if the details weren't in the note, he would surely be informed about what had happened later. But he was here. He had seen everything that had happened. The initial exhibition, the application of the clit clip (still making her little nub throb with every heartbeat), the spanking, her losing control and peeing in plain view, the cane, the cat, and the electricity. Everything, each piece worse than the last. And, worst by far, the way she had tried to follow the finger a minute ago, thrusting her hips up like the common slut the Disciplinarian had called her. Rachel wished she could die of shame, so that her ordeal would finally be over. And yet, at the same time, a part of her, hiding deep inside but more active than ever today, tingled softly. She didn't notice her pussy swell a bit further, or start leaking more liquid. She was far too busy panicking to hear the Disciplinarian point it out, or notice the pensive look of the audience as the vice-principal explained something important to them. Rachel even missed the repeat of Mr. Thoreau's smile, coming back to reality only when he again stroked her pussy, shaming her as her body once again responded to his efforts. She blinked and looked at the camera, and seeing her lips and Mr. Thoreau's finger viewed from close up somehow made the feeling even more intense when it again slid upwards and began circling her little clit, sending her mind skyward once more. Shame and pleasure warred for dominance, and pleasure won. Mr. Thoreau again started to pull his finger back, but when her hips again rose to meet it, he resumed his stroking. The vice-principal said, "As you can see, the sexual response is a strong one, capable of overriding other emotions if properly evoked." The matter-of-fact tone of his voice contrasted completely with the sensations his finger was producing. "It is this fact which can cause a rape victim to reach orgasm despite their terror, shame, and utter lack of willingness. Note that I didn't say 'her terror', either. Arousal is often mostly mental, but it can also be purely physical, so yes, men can be raped, too. And no matter how their body responds, it's important to remember that it is still rape, and it was not their fault, no matter how much it feels that way." Rachel felt confused. It was a completely bizarre topic for the vice-principal to lecture about while he kept sending pure joy through her. And, distantly, it occurred to her that the current punishment was itself a sort of rape, perfectly legal but still a violation of her body. How, then, could he teach about rape and underscore how evil it is while simultaneously practicing it himself? Yet beneath it all, there was the feeling, small yet but still growing, that maybe this punishment wasn't as bad as she'd thought. Those thoughts were wiped off her mind by the awareness that underneath all of the pleasure, the something that she'd felt before was growing closer. She could almost see it rising, like the level of a thermometer, growing closer to the point where it would boil over and consume her. She had no idea what it was, but she knew it would be glorious. The vice-principal spoke up again. "As you can see, Rachel is growing even more excited. In fact, she is starting to approach her sexual climax, known as orgasm or, more colloquially, coming. Often spelled with a U, to distinguish it from coming as in the opposite of going. Orgasm is a tricky thing, a bit different in everyone. Female orgasm is known for being complex to achieve, but men can have trouble with it as well. And then there is the other side of the spectrum, the people who come perhaps a bit too easily. In men, it's known as premature ejaculation. In women, it's known as awesome." The audience chuckled. "Seriously, though, it can be a problem for women as well. The worst case I've heard of was a woman who would orgasm every five minutes or so, just from ordinary activities. At first, it seems like a great gift, but think about it a bit. That has to be terribly distracting, coming every couple blocks as you walk. And imagine trying to fall asleep like that. I'm sure she would give a lot to be able to switch it off from time to time." Rachel moaned at the unending massage of her clip-bound clit. Mr. Thoreau continued, "In most people, though, there are about seven subjective stages of arousal. Starting with none at all, the basic arousal when you begin to get excited, and the early stages where it builds rapidly. Then it tapers off to a kind of plateau, where you can't seem to get any further. That's where Rachel is right now." Rachel was pumping her hips, rubbing against the finger to try and increase the wonderful feelings going through her body and bring that something, her orgasm, closer. It was frustrating, hanging there, just out of reach. And then, suddenly, it was like something snapped inside her, and she could feel it rushing closer, just within reach... The Disciplinarian smiled at her cruelly for a moment as he withdrew his finger again. The vice-principal said, "Eventually, as Rachel has just discovered, you break through the plateau and enter stage five, rushing towards orgasm at a rapid pace once more. At this point, if you stop for a short period and then stimulate again..." Mr. Thoreau again rubbed at her clit, sending Rachel skywards. Her orgasm rose once more, rushing at her with a speed that she found hard to believe. The finger withdrew once more. "... the arousal drops sharply, but the plateau is gone, so it produces sensations reminiscent of a roller coaster. It's possible to remain in this state indefinitely, provided that the right balance of stimulation is achieved, and the process is called 'edging', because it keeps you on the edge. This can improve the quality of the resulting orgasm, in addition to being pleasurable on its own, but can also be immensely frustrating, as I'm sure Rachel will agree." Rachel just moaned as Mr. Thoreau caressed her once more. He continued, "Once sufficient stimulation is applied, you pass the point of no return, beyond which orgasm is inevitable. You can stop completely at that point, but doing so tends to make the resulting orgasm hollow and unfulfilling. And, finally, there's the orgasm itself, which must be experienced to be believed. Once that ends, there is the afterglow, a feeling of contentment and pleasure that can last for several minutes and could be considered an eighth stage of arousal. There's one more interesting trick there, but I'll get to it in a minute." Mr. Thoreau once again began rubbing her clit, and Rachel pushed her hips up at him, trying to reach orgasm before he noticed. This time, though, instead of pulling back completely, he just slowed down, gently caressing her clit with a featherlike touch no matter how she moved. It was enough to drive Rachel mad, and she moaned once more in combined arousal and frustration. She was so close that it felt like she was standing at the very gates of paradise, needing just the slightest push to tumble through. Mr. Thoreau smiled down at her and said, "Ask me for it." Rachel looked at him desperately. "Please..." she croaked. "Please what?" he asked, stroking just a hair faster, but still not quite enough. "Please... please rub harder." "Ah, ah. Why do you want me to do that?" Rachel's eyes nearly glazed over. "L-let me orgasm." "Ask your father." Rachel blinked, looking into his eyes. Disciplinarian and Mr. Thoreau seemed to have blended together, forming someone who was both demanding and compassionate. Rachel looked up at the monitor, split between the vice-Disciplinarian's actions and her father's intent stare. She hesitated for a moment, and the finger between her legs pressed slightly harder, escalating her pleasure and frustration once more. Suddenly, with as much of an internal crack as breaking through the plateau, the small part of her that enjoyed this unreservedly broke free and rose to the surface. Rachel's hesitation vanished as she looked straight at her father's image and sincerely said, "Please, daddy. Tell..." she paused for a moment to moan, then continued, "Tell Mr. Thoreau to do it. Tell him to make me cum! I'll be good, I promise!" Her father smiled. "Go ahead, Howard. She's earned it." The vice-principal's reply was lost to Rachel as he dipped another finger and his thumb in her honey and then surrounded her swollen clit with all three. Stopping only for a moment to smile at her with that half-Disciplinarian, half-Mr.-Thoreau face, he gripped her little bud tightly and started twisting his hand, rubbing his fingers firmly all around her clip-bound clit. The sudden feeling rushed through her body like a tidal wave of pleasure. From hovering just outside the gates of paradise, she was shoved in clit-first, rising higher and higher as the world around her melted in the pure, wonderful experience of reaching orgasm for the first time. She wasn't just in paradise, she was paradise. The physical embodiment of pleasure, soaring free and calling out her delight to the world. But, as with all good things, it came to an end, and Rachel began to float gently downwards, getting her first taste of the afterglow. She looked at Mr. Thoreau and started to thank him, wanting nothing more than to tell him just how much she appreciated what he'd done for her. She had never dreamed that something like that was possible. He had opened up a whole new world to her, one that sheâ€" With a broad grin, wicked but somehow kind at the same time, Mr. Thoreau began rubbing her clit again. Rachel's eyes widened, and for a moment she was going to tell him to stop, that it was too much for her. She was just taking a breath to do so when stars passed in front of her eyes and she felt the gates of paradise opening once more. Amazingly, she flew still higher, pleasure beyond words escaping her in a moan of pure bliss. She was not an elemental, she was a canvas, and her artist was painting a masterpiece of joy with the tiny brush that was her clit. Again, she began drifting back to earth, and was able to open her eyes long enough to look at Mr. Thoreau again, and see the same grin, even wider this time. Slow strokes, firm but insistent, lit her clit on fire once more. There was no overstimulation this time, just a methodical walk back to the gates of paradise, the turtle to the last one's hare. She saw her orgasm once more, floating before her and glowing like the sun. Every stroke brought it a little closer and made it a little bigger, until surely it must have been larger than sun it so resembled. Once, it might have frightened her, but after visiting heaven twice, she knew that if she died of pleasure, it would be the best possible way to go. Mr. Thoreau's expert fingers gently pushed her over the edge and sent her careening towards her third and biggest orgasm yet with a note of finality. As she tumbled forwards and was consumed by her climax, one last thought bubbled to the surface. Thank you. * * * Rachel gently faded back into consciousness. Dimly, she realized that the soft surface beneath her was not the same metal table she'd been strapped to a moment ago. With that thought, memory rushed back, and her eyes snapped open. "Ah, good," said Mr. Thoreau, "you're back with us. Your two friends went home almost an hour ago. They seemed quite concerned about you, but I was able to convince them that the experience had been far more... illuminating, shall we say, for you than for them. Unlike you, you see, they don't have a thing for exhibitionism and powerlessness. In a way, I suppose sharing your punishment was worse than giving them their own, but I think it's safe to say that they'll keep themselves and anyone who talks to them firmly in line." Rachel blinked as Mr. Thoreau handed her a glass of water. She took a sip, then asked, "Did you...?" "Bring them to orgasm too? Oh, yes, but I'm afraid that it wasn't a very good experience for them. They'll explore more on their own, I'm sureâ€"teenagers are remarkably resilient that wayâ€"but the experience itself was nothing more than the punishment it was billed as." Rachel stared into the cup of water. "Thank you," she whispered. "I wanted to say that before, but I passed out before I could." Mr. Thoreau smiled. "You're welcome. Teaching is my job, even if I do get the stick end more often than the carrot. It's fascinating, though, how people grow after being subjected to their greatest fear. I've wondered, from time to time, if the inventor realized that." He nodded towards the safe, indicating the helmet stored inside. "It would certainly explain why he made a it child-sized and left it to a school." Rachel nodded, then blushed. "It was... fun, sort of. Exhilirating. I didn't like the pain much, or the embarassment, but part of me seemed to crave it. And at the end, when you were completely in control and sending me off like that... it was amazing." She looked down at the floor. Mr. Thoreau smiled. "Perfectly normal. Everybody has a few unusual desires, and they're not a problem on their own. It's only when you do something dangerous or destructive that you should feel bad." He reached out and lifted her chin. "Not when you're just having fun in a strange way." Rachel smiled weakly. "I'm going to have to think about that for a bit. What time is it? Can I go?" The vice-principal said, "Well, it's still an hour 'till school gets out, but I think you've had a full day. You've certainly learned more about yourself today than you would in a month of normal classes." He walked back to his desk and Rachel stood up, turning towards the door. Blinking, she glanced down, noticing that she had her clothes on again. Mr. Thoreau chuckled. "Well, I could hardly keep a naked girl lying on my office couch after her punishment was over. People might get the right idea." Rachel looked at him, frowning slightly as she considered what he had just said. The vice-principal pulled open a drawer and removed another parental consent form. "Before you go, take this." Rachel frowned deeper, but walked over and took it, confirming, to her confusion, that it had her name on it. "Isn't my punishment over?" The half-Disciplinarian smile appeared on Mr. Thoreau's face again. "Yes, it is, but I thought you might be interested to know that I start teaching Sex Ed next week, and I happen to need an assistant. It's up to you; think it over and if you want the job, give that to your father. I doubt he'll object. You'll get a modelling stipend, and while the other students are bound to think it's still part of your punishment, we'll know better, won't we?" This was a bit too much for Rachel to soak in, so she just said, "I'll think about it." Mr. Thoreau nodded. "That's all I ask." He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. "I believe your father is waiting for you in the parking lot." * * * Despite the abrupt proposal, Rachel knew she was going to accept long before she reached her father's car. Climbing in, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Hi, daddy. Mr. Thoreau wants to give me a job, but there's another form for you." Her father looked at Rachel and smiled. She blinked in surprise as she noticed that same wicked love on his face that Mr. Thoreau had had at the end. "I'm sure I won't mind, but I'll read it over later just in case." Rachel smiled back at him, feeling the wickedness creep into her own grin. Maybe living in Pinkville wouldn't be so bad after all. * * *

Sorry for the delay, folks, I hope the wait was worth it. This chapter brings Punushment to Fit the Criminal to a close, but I do have more planned for Rachel. Even though this part of the story is complete, there's still more to be told. It just won't be part of the Punishment to Fit the Criminal. I'll follow-up when I can, but my non-yiffy life has been busy, and is expected to become busier yet. I'd like to promise that it won't be as long this time, but the truth is that I have no idea. My next piece could be tomorrow, next week, or next year, and I can't tell you which. Wish me luck.