Going Home

It occurs to you that you have written a few rules like that already. And you are pretty tired...it seems like a good idea to go home.

You walk through the university grounds, noticing the impact of all your rules - there are two girls bent over, their already red butts being turned purple by a professor with a paddle. Most of the girls are looking away, cheeks flaming at the sound of wood on buttflesh. Doubtless they are remembering spankings of their own and how little their own outfits cover.

You head towards the bus stop, but on the way you see something you did not expect. At the end of the street which opens onto the road is a rank of rickshaws operated by one of the sororities. The sisters are dressed slightly differently from the other students you've seen, wearing backless, halter top mini-dresses in the sorority colours and trainers. A large sign reads:

Sorority Rickshaw Rides – Anywhere in the city

Pay what you want!

You reach into a pocket to find some change to put in the collection bucket under the sign, but one of the sisters runs forward to assure you that university staff always ride for free. You start to tell her your address, but it seems she already knows and beckons the first rickshaw to come up to you. The runner is a sporty-looking blonde with mid-length hair done up in a bun, who has a broad smile on her face as she positions her vehicle for you to embark.

You notice that she is wearing a thong, although it is made out of an unusual fabric - it seems very stiff. It's also tied to the handles of the rickshaw, giving her a constant painful wedgie. The gusset is pulled up between her lips, sawing into the tender skin of her pussy, and she seems to wince with every step, especially when the rickshaw bounces over a stone.

You settle into the seat and notice a long whip in a holder on the side. Clearly, the hairstyle and revealing frock are intended to facilitate a rider whipping the runner if she is too slow or the ride too bumpy. You have read that in the nineteenth century, pulled rickshaws were regarded as the most dangerous and degrading occupation a human being could pursue; adding the option to whip the runner hardly makes them any less so, which tells you that the sorority is deliberately making the job as difficult and unpleasant as possible for the girls doing it. After all, they could have used faster and easier-to-operate cycle rickshaws if this were just about making money. Of course, the way her underwear is deliberately set up to give her an agonizing wedgie is a pretty good hint to that as well.

The fit blonde is puffing a bit as she hauls the vehicle up the incline towards your home. You're making reasonably good time, since the human-powered conveyance is permitted to use both bus and cycle lanes, allowing it to cut across the park and through the pedestrianized zone to the end of your street. As the exhausted girl slows to a halt at your front door, she is panting for breath and looks so pale and sweaty that you fear she may throw up from the exertion. However, when you alight, she manages to gasp out "Thank-you for using Sorority Rickshaw Rides, Professor. Please travel with us again," before turning the rickshaw around and heading straight back without taking even a moment to rest.

You marvel at the pleasing way your use of the Rulebook has changed attitudes and customs. There is no way that the proud and progressive sororities would have put their members through such an ordeal before, but now it is accepted as perfectly normal behavior for a young woman to engage in public servitude. Taking your keys from your pocket, you walk up the path to your house, glad to be home.

Opening the door, you are greeted by a marvelous aroma of home cooking. You stop on the threshold, wondering what is going on, when a delightful figure steps from your kitchen into the hall in front of you.

Even by the standards of women attending the university, she is stunningly beautiful, peaches-and-cream complexion framed by midnight-black ringlets piled high upon her head to expose an elegant neck rising out of a french-maid style outfit. She is tall and slender and could easily be a model or starlet, but your Rulebook-implanted knowledge tells you that this is Imogen, one of your grad-students, who have formed a rota to do your housework and look after your domestic needs. You suppose this could be viewed as important training for a life after college, rather than a pedagogue taking advantage of **** labor from his students, but you wonder how widespread the practice is.

Implanted knowledge also tells you that Imogen wet herself during a spanking last week, and should be in pull-ups. You wonder what condition they are in, if she has been home all day with no one to ask permission from.