Dress for Class

Barb, time for class.

Professor Anip’s disembodied voice echo’s in her head. She manages to get up despite the splitting headache.

Barb throws on sweats and heads down the corridor. Two minutes later she steps into the classroom,

Professor Anip gives her a disapproving look. “Barb, how are feeling!”

“I know. I drank too much and now I’m hung over.”

“Dear girl, there’s nothing wrong with a little excess. In fact I’d encourage it, but why are you hung over?”

A look of realization hits Barb. She mutters a word and her headache disappears…like magic.

“You are a pain witch, my dear. You never need to feel any pain. Now I have some gifts for you,”

Professor Anip pulls out a pair of what must be at least nine inch ballet heel shoes.

“Here try them on.”

“How can I walk in those?”

“Try them and I’ll show you,”

Barb slips them on. The height of the heel makes each step like prancing and every footfall excruciating.

“Now, Barb, turn that pain to pleasure,”

Barb whispers the name of the pain. Suddenly, her face becomes orgasmic.

“Oh, fuck! Every step is bliss! I feel like running a marathon in these.”

Barb licks her lips at the thought.

Professor Anip pulls out a leather corset nearly identical to her own.

“The fun won’t really start until you’re wearing this.”

“Help me put it on.” Barb nearly drools.

Professor Anip fastens it on her,

“Tighter.”

Barb moans in bliss as the Professor pulls it tighter.

“Tighter!”

Barb feels her pussy gush as Professor Anip tightens it more. Barb runs a hand along her now incredibly narrow waist, stopping to cup her greatly enlarged breast. She is shocked by how good she feels and how hot she looks.

“Now that you’re properly dressed, let’s learn about pain.”

Barb lowers her hand in the altar. She quickly master’s each new pain until she looses count.

“I think that will be enough for today. You’ve already learned sixty three kinds of pain. That’s more than most lesser witches ever learn.”

Barb licks the sweat from her upper lip. She wants more, but the Professor is right. She is tired.

She walks out of class. Each footfall of her new shoes sends pleasurable shivers down her spine. The question for her is where to go. She idly hopes it’s a bit of a walk.