When you rebel against Fiammetta Hawk's humiliation, she orders you to serve detention under her

Fiammetta Hawk's cheeks glow pink with anticipation. "Over the punishment horse, now," she orders. "Applebum, left of center. Woodbine, to her right. Hold tight."

You move to the right side of the long punishment horse, a long, padded half-barrel shape with the curve on top, like a vaulting horse. There are places for four students, should the Tutor or a Prefect find cause to punish a larger group at once.

"INCARCERO," the Tutor incants.

Fetters grow from the handles of the punishment horse and take hold of your wrists in a clammy-cold grip. Fay whimpers. You know a word to release their hold, should you be beyond endurance, but as a senior student of House Minerval, you're expected to endure to the point of fainting.

This is not your favorite part of your chosen House's practices.

"Now, then, let's start with Applebum. Count," the Tutor directs.

Fiammetta Hawk's springy cane whistles and lands on Fay's bum with a stinging bite.

"ONE!" Fay calls out.

Fiammetta Hawk lays down a steady sequence of strokes.

"TWO! THREE! F-FOUR!, FIIIIIVE! S-SIX!" Fay calls out.

Fay's cheeks are red, and tears roll from her eyes. This is not Fay's favorite part of being a Minerval either.

Before Fiammetta Hawk reaches sixteen strokes, Fay has dissolved into sobs.

"There there, Applebum," the Tutor says. "Only five more. Anyone could take five more. Even a tit-sucking Beavertail could take five more."

You refrain from objecting that tit-sucking is common across Houses, and that no doubt the Tutor must be casting aspersions on Housemistress Bertha Beeblossom, whose bust is over-ample and whose deep cleavage is often displayed by the low neckline of her tailored brown and gold robes.

"Count, Applebum," Fiammetta Hawk directs.

Her supple cane whistles and strikes, laying down pink welts on Fay's pale buttocks.

"S-SIXTEEN! S-SEVEN, SEVENTEEN! EIGHT...TEEN! N-N-N-NINETEEN! TWENTY!!!"

Fay lies limply from her fetters, her shoulders shaking as she sobs, sniffling and blubbering. Drool runs in threads from her lips. Tears streak down her face to drip from her chin.

"There, there, brave girl," Fiammetta Hawk says. "That's the way to take your punishment. Now for your reward."

You feel the tingle of magic as the Tutor raises her wand. She steps forward and traces a complicated magical knot over Fay's lower back. Holding a loose strand of the spell upon her wand, the Tutor walks round to the side of the punishment horse where you and Fay's heads and hands are.

The Tutor kneels in front of Fay. "Poor dear girl," she says. The Tutor kisses Fay upon the lips as Fay keeps sobbing and sniffling. "Wait one moment and you will have your due."

The Tutor raises the tail of her robes with one hand and tucks it into her waistband, baring her rump. She stands, turns about, and backs up toward Fay's face. With one hand holding her wand high, her other hand spreads her buttocks. "Here, kiss me back."

The Tutor wouldn't have to drag this out if it were just administering punishment. You feel a tear roll down your own cheek. She enjoys making Fay miserable.

Fay sniffles.

"Come now, Applebum, lift your head, lips to my bumhole," Fiammetta Hawk says.

Fay whimpers and raises her lips to the Tutor's anus.

"Now lick," the Tutor says. "Yes. There. Yes. Now, here is your due."

Fiammetta Hawk twists her wand and jerks it forward as if she's tugging sharply on a string. The magical knot upon Fay's lower back unwinds with a ripple of magic.

"Mmmmmfff!" Fay moans. Her hips tilt, thrusting up and down. "Mmmmmmhhh!"

"Yes, Fay, yes yes oh!" Fiammetta Hawk calls out. Her head dips forward, then jerks back. She grinds her bum into Fay's face. "Ahhhh."

After several cycles of bow head down, jerk head up, and grind bum on face, the Tutor sighs.

"I am satisfied," Fiammetta Hawk says. She steps forward, tugging the tail of her robe out of her waistband and letting it slide down to cover her spit-shiny rear crease.

Fay lets herself hang loose in her fetters again.

"Now for you, Woodbine," the Tutor says. "I assume you're the ringleader in all this."

"N-no, no," Fay whimpers. But her protest on your behalf means as little to the Tutor as it did to House Leontes' Warden.

"Count," Fiammetta Hawk commands. The cane whistles and stings.

"Eh-ONE!" you call out.

You're a sobbing mess by the time the Tutor reaches twenty strokes, but you haven't missed a count.

"Five more, I think," the Tutor says.

You shriek, "What is this even FOR?!"

"So you know who's in charge," the Tutor says. "Count, from twenty-one."

Whistle, sting. "TWENTY-ONE!" you call out.

The cane rises, descends, strikes four more times.

"T-TW-TWENTYFIVE!" you cry out. "AH!" you add in anger.

You feel the Tutor weaving the same magical knot on your lower back. You feel its threads touching your nerves, setting them tingling in counterpoint to the stinging stripes on your buttocks. Your moisture oozes. Your pearl and inner lips swell.

The Tutor steps round the punishment horse and looks you in the face. "You're even braver than Fay," she says. "Or more defiant."

Your stomach churns. You don't quite say it. Defiant.

Fiammetta Hawk laughs. "Well, it shall be the same for you as for Applebum," she says. She turns round and raises her robe, backs up to you and says, "Kiss me."

You lift your chin and kiss. The Tutor's bum tastes like Fay's spit. Hardly a humiliation, there.

But you can't just submit.

"Very well, Woodbine," the Tutor says. "Now..." She raises her wand. The knot of magic on your back gives off a wavering, shimmery feeling.

You spit out the magic word that the Warden used on you and Fay.

"...Rrrgh!" Fiammetta Hawk says as her limbs lock tight. "Unh!" She farts out a loud burst of wind that tickles your nose. Her urine trickles down upon the stone floor. She moans and sways, pressing her buttocks back at your face. You catch her mind open as her climax begins, absorbing a spell. The Tutor's knees buckle and she crumples to the floor, her wand rattling away across the stone pavement. Her hips thrust back and forth as her shameful climax continues, her long red hair tossing and fanning out across the floor.

The Tutor eventually collects herself, rises to her feet, and seizes her fallen wand. She releases Fay from her magical fetters, gives you a cold look, and stalks out of the room, tugging a protesting Fay along with her.

It's a long, cold wait. You wish you had Lolo's draconic inner fires.

At length, Euryale, the veiled, snake-haired Wardress of Minerval, arrives, releases your fetters, and conducts you to a cold little cell in the cellars of your House. "You are in detention," she pronounces. "The Tutor will take personal charge of your case."

Gain +1 XP and another CONSEQUENCE; but the second CONSEQUENCE on top of DISGRACED sends you to GET OUT OF DETENTION (alternatively it could have been GET OUT OF THE INFIRMARY).

MIND MELD: you learn the spell TRANSFORM, allowing you to transform yourself or another to a different shape or form. Take a -1 to a Move roll if you're trying to fool someone into believing you're someone else in an ENCOUNTER or similar Move.

You have 2 XP, Ambition +2, Bravery -1, Cunning +2, Diligence +0.
You know the spell TRANSFORM and the Forbidden Spell SHAMEGASM.

You have a CONSEQUENCE (DISGRACED, -1 on all Move Rolls).

Roll +DILIGENCE(-1) to GET OUT OF DETENTION. (+0 Diligence, -1 CONSEQUENCE).