Erotic writer, focusing on transgender chastity, spankings, and all-around hot sexy things. I do commissions, and I'm always looking for new writing prompts. Feel free to reach out.
At Rattangrove Academy, girls of all genitalia were welcome. It was a safe and open place where all students were accepted and provided a nurturing environment where they could excel in the pursuit of a post-secondary education. However, in keeping with long-held societal norms, and as a check against rampant pregnancy rates among the student body, chastity cages for the trans students had been mandatory since the founding of the academy. As time progressed and more progressive views were integrated the cages became optional - at the parents’ discretion of course.
However, Rattangrove was a prestigious and exclusive school, and the sort of parents who could afford to send their daughter there tended to be of a traditional mindset. Thus, while there were a handful of “free” trans students at the academy, well over 95% of their contemporaries observed the time-honoured traditions of the school.
The cages were of a consistent and time-tested design: lightweight steel with a slim titanium locking pin. Comfortable enough for student athletes, yet incredibly secure. These were installed on the girls on the morning of their first day of classes, and worn throughout the school year. This was often a tearful day as girls permitted to be free at home were locked away, while those from very strict households were simply transferred from one cage to another with no chance for even a light caress in between. Standardized and nearly perfected over time, they were all alike in style; apart from tiny differences in size and weight. The one striking difference however, carried the heaviest figurative weight… which was the Colour.
The cages were colour coded to easily codify the disciplinary treatment that was appropriate for administrating corrective action for girls when situations arose. A girl’s cage colour was mostly her own business, and remained so, provided she stayed out of trouble. However, getting into trouble at Rattangrove meant corporal punishment, and always on the bare bottom with their cage exposed; and once her secret was out… well a small boarding school was always rife with gossip.. A girl might earn a spanking, paddling, or caning, lines or detention, or worst of all, to be sent to the principal with a “slip” for more severe correction. The severity of these punishments varied widely based on the colour of a girl’s cage. So too did a girl’s treatment by the school nurse when it came time for their monthly “relief”. The school understood that young ladies have certain needs, and so once per month the girls were permitted an opportunity of relief. Behave, and you might get unlocked for a nice and satisfying cum. But show up in the cage of a troublemaker, and a milking was probably the best you could hope for.
The cages came in 6 colours:
Pink cages were the most common, and every girl at the academy had worn pink at one point or another during their time at the school. For students in their second semester onwards, this was the standard cage. In the locker room, well over 75% of the caged girls would be locked in pink, and after a few months at the school it seemed quite normal even to outsiders. Comfortable, fitted to their exact specifications, and incredibly effective at frustrating a girl’s desires, this was the colour a professor would expect to see when a girl’s panties came down for a punishment, and so neither extra leniency nor harshness would be required. For these girls, reporting to the nurse at the end of the month for “relief” could be fairly confident that they would be unlocked so long as their grades were good and they hadn’t been punished for anything serious that month. Keep your grades up and your nose clean and a girl could expect a satisfying orgasm once a month, or at least a nice lollipop from the nurse after her milking.
White cages were purely for new girls, and marked them as a fresh, clean, newly arrived canvas for the school to imprint its values on. Any girls in their first semester at the school were locked in white cages. A sign that they were still adjusting to the school and its rules. A bit of extra firmness was generally applied to these girls’ bottoms, in order to help them adjust, and a thorough explanation of the rule they had broken was essential as well. For a girl wearing white a few extra pages of lines after class, or a half dozen extra brush strokes were not given out of cruelty, but to help her adjust to life at the school. Further, it was policy for the standards at the end of the month to be somewhat higher for new girls, as the faculty considered it good for the girls’ moral fibre to be weaned off satisfying orgasms early in their education. At the start of their second semester, the girls were moved over to pink and joined the rest of the student body.
Green was the Good Girl cage. When the girls are lined up for their monthly “relief” those wearing the coveted green cage are always at the front of the line. A, B+, or better average and no punishment slips for 2 full semesters are required to earn this cage, and the rewards are well worth it. A cage off orgasm is nearly assured each month, and a girl bent over the desk for the paddle would have her punishment reduced to a hand-spanking or even just a warning if she was wearing green in many cases. Hard to obtain, harder yet to keep, the green cage is an object of envy for any girl not wearing one. Unlike the punitive cages, which reset to pink eventually, a girl who had earned the green cage could keep wearing it indefinitely so long as she kept her grades up and didn’t earn so much as a single punishment slip.
Just as good behaviour can earn you a cage that reduces your punishment, there were a few cages that marked the school’s troublemakers. Yellow cages weren’t for the real troublemakers, but more for girls who were trending in the wrong direction or starting to mix with the wrong crowd. A single punishment slip was permitted for girls who wore pink, but a girl with 2 or 3 slips would be moved over to the yellow cage. Firmer correction was needed to keep these girls on the straight and narrow, and a professor would almost certainly choose a slightly harsher implement, add a few strokes, or send the poor girl off for a half hour in the hallway with her red bottom on display. It was theoretically possible for a yellow-caged girl to earn an actual unlock come relief day, if she had perfect grades. However an unsatisfying and humiliating milking was far more likely, leaving the poor girl emptied, but even more desperate than when she had arrived. At the end of the semester, assuming the girl passed, her cage would reset to pink.
Red. The Brat Cage, and had been referred to as such for longer than the current headmaster had been alive. For girls with 4 or more punishment slips over the semester, or a girl who broke, or attempted to break The Golden Rule (Good Girls Don’t Cum), the Brat Cage was an effective deterrent. A girl with a red cage is loath to take her panties down for a professor, knowing that it means she will be getting the very worst selection of implements possible. The faculty is encouraged to “make an example” of girls in the Brat Cage, and getting “a bottom to match your cage” is a very real and very painful reality for the handful of girls locked in this colour. Getting unlocked is strictly forbidden, and a surprisingly high GPA is needed even for a milking. This is a hard correction, but a temporary one; the cage resets at the end of the semester back to pink, assuming the girl passes all her classes.
Black. The Permacage; The Nuclear Option; Solitary Confinement. For continued misbehaviour, and/or multiple violations of The Golden Rule, the black cage was the last hope for a cure for the truly incorrigible. All discipline is referred directly to the principal, and these sessions can last an hour or more. Any hope for relief is abandoned, as they are forbidden from even standing in line on relief day. It’s also unique in that it does not revert back to pink at the end of the semester. A girl locked in the black cage will spend one calendar year in it, even over the summer when she goes home to see her parents. After a year, the cage is removed, and replaced with a yellow one, keeping the girl “on probation” until the end of that semester before she can get a pink cage and a chance at real relief. There is almost never more than one girl wearing a black cage at the school at any one time, and in the 140 year history of the academy there has never been more than three at once. While most girls are allowed some privacy regarding their cage, black-caged girls are known to every professor so that they can keep a careful eye on them.
Emily was not having a good semester. After the whole “rental vibrator in the bathroom” fiasco, she had been demoted from pink straight down to red. Ms. Burns (That’s Mizz Burns, not Miss, and certainly not Missus; though the students did love to refer to her as OhDearGodIt Burns when they were absolutely certain they wouldn’t be overheard). Her least favourite professor had a very strict policy regarding her pop quizzes, as well as a grudge against Emily in particular. In Ms. Burns’ class the lowest 5 scoring students received corporal punishment, to encourage them to do better. Emily had just escaped this time, and was happy to not be called up to the front of the class.
Willow and Kelsi had taken the long walk to the front of the classroom first; Skirt up and panties down they had laid over Ms. Burns’ generous lap, and the sound of her hard hand meeting their tender bare bottoms had filled the classroom for some minutes while the rest of the class watched sympathetically. They were on display now, hands on their heads, skirts and panties confiscated, pink cages on display. Emily felt bad for them, especially her friend Willow, who she knew was one punishment slip away from being demoted to a yellow cage. Ms. Burns didn’t normally hand out punishment slips for a low quiz score, but students didn’t normally get an 11% on them either. Poor Willow.
The next girl up was already sniffling as she raised her skirt, revealing a yellow cage. Ms. Burns scowled in disapproval before bending her over the desk for a dozen each with the cane and strap before being sent to the corner openly crying. Emily winced in sympathy; Ms. Burns seemed to take a perverse delight in handing out pain, and any girl: cis or trans, locked or unlocked, who drew her ire was in for a rough time of it. Worse yet, Ms. Burns enjoyed punishing her students just a little too much. For the first student or two she didn’t spank any harder than any other professor, but by the third or fourth girl she had a taste for it and like an athlete hitting her stride, she could really pack a wallop.
The fourth girl up made Emily’s throat tighten, along with her cage. It was Courtney, the beautiful, kind girl who had been Emily’s first roommate, and her crush ever since. Seeing her skirt come up and panties come down brought a blush to Emily’s cheeks, just as Courtney’s own cheeks got a blush all their own. Seeing her squirm and whimper as the spanks rained down made Emily begin to drip, wetting her cage, and then her panties. Long before Ms. Burns was satisfied that Courtney had learned her lesson, Emily’s panties were positively soaked. Courtney was generally a well-behaved girl, and wasn’t getting much more than a long and sound hand-spanking, though from Ms. Burns even a hand-spanking was no laughing matter. Emily drank in every movement of Courtney’s red bottom as she wriggled off Ms. Burns lap and minced tearfully to her position in the corner to cool off.
“One last girl and then class is dismissed.” Ms. Burns informed the class, checking her list of students. “Melissa?” Twenty sets of eyes swivelled to the empty desk in the corner.
“Erm… absent, Ma’am” Kayla volunteered.
Ms. Burns scowled while Emily smiled inside, happy to see the old bat stymied for once. “Hmmmmm…” she murmured, looking down at her notes once more. Then she stopped, and put a finger to the page, double checking her information. She smiled, and looked up; straight at Emily.
“Well, since Melissa is absent, I believe that the sixth worst score belongs to Ms. Black. Front of the class, Emily. Don’t hold everyone up; we all have somewhere else to be.”
Emily sighed grimly as she stood and slowly trudged to the front of the class. She tried not to show her terror or her fear. There was no point in arguing, or trying to appeal. Ms. Burns had absolute authority over her own class. She bit her lower lip to hide her frustration and fear as she pulled up her skirt and lowered her panties… grateful that she was at least wearing regulation underwear today. Ms. Burns’ eyes narrowed when she saw the bright red tube between Emily’s legs, and even further upon seeing the wet spot in her panties; and she motioned for her to bend over the desk. Unseen by Emily, a subtly delighted smile played across the face of the professor as she walked over to her Cabinet of Correction. She lingered over the broad selection of paddles, straps, and canes; each one lovingly maintained. She had such lovely memories of each of them, but a particularly cruel paddle was her favourite. She regretted having so few excuses to use it, but a girl in a red cage was most decidedly fair game… Emily whimpered, regretting her test scores, Melissa’s absence, and hating the knowledge that had she been just a little better behaved, this wouldn’t have hurt nearly as much.
Emily shivered, looking over the class, and not daring to look back over her shoulder to where Courtney stood, her own bottom cooling in the corner. Emily hoped that her own excitement didn’t show, that her cage would pass for being dry, that Ms. Burns wouldn’t notice how wet her panties were.
“Enjoying the show, were we?”
The professor’s voice cut in. Emily heard her bend down behind her, inspecting her panties, her cage, and the dampness on the insides of her thighs. Her stomach twisted with the humiliation as the professor pressed the paddle on the inside of her thigh, leaning in for a closer look.
“Well, once we’re done here, you can explain the condition of your undergarments to the Headmaster. I’m sure he’ll be most curious to hear precisely why you’ve made such a mess of yourself. Now do try to hold still.”
Emily’s face blushed as deep a red as her cage, and she knew her bottom would soon follow.
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Colour Coded
At Rattangrove Academy, girls of all genitalia were welcome. It was a safe and open place where all students were accepted and provided a nurturing environment where they could excel in the pursuit of a post-secondary education. However, in keeping with long-held societal norms, and as a check against rampant pregnancy rates among the student body, chastity cages for the trans students had been mandatory since the founding of the academy. As time progressed and more progressive views were integrated the cages became optional - at the parents’ discretion of course.
However, Rattangrove was a prestigious and exclusive school, and the sort of parents who could afford to send their daughter there tended to be of a traditional mindset. Thus, while there were a handful of “free” trans students at the academy, well over 95% of their contemporaries observed the time-honoured traditions of the school.
The cages were of a consistent and time-tested design: lightweight steel with a slim titanium locking pin. Comfortable enough for student athletes, yet incredibly secure. These were installed on the girls on the morning of their first day of classes, and worn throughout the school year. This was often a tearful day as girls permitted to be free at home were locked away, while those from very strict households were simply transferred from one cage to another with no chance for even a light caress in between. Standardized and nearly perfected over time, they were all alike in style; apart from tiny differences in size and weight. The one striking difference however, carried the heaviest figurative weight… which was the Colour.
The cages were colour coded to easily codify the disciplinary treatment that was appropriate for administrating corrective action for girls when situations arose. A girl’s cage colour was mostly her own business, and remained so, provided she stayed out of trouble. However, getting into trouble at Rattangrove meant corporal punishment, and always on the bare bottom with their cage exposed; and once her secret was out… well a small boarding school was always rife with gossip.. A girl might earn a spanking, paddling, or caning, lines or detention, or worst of all, to be sent to the principal with a “slip” for more severe correction. The severity of these punishments varied widely based on the colour of a girl’s cage. So too did a girl’s treatment by the school nurse when it came time for their monthly “relief”. The school understood that young ladies have certain needs, and so once per month the girls were permitted an opportunity of relief. Behave, and you might get unlocked for a nice and satisfying cum. But show up in the cage of a troublemaker, and a milking was probably the best you could hope for.
The cages came in 6 colours:
Pink cages were the most common, and every girl at the academy had worn pink at one point or another during their time at the school. For students in their second semester onwards, this was the standard cage. In the locker room, well over 75% of the caged girls would be locked in pink, and after a few months at the school it seemed quite normal even to outsiders. Comfortable, fitted to their exact specifications, and incredibly effective at frustrating a girl’s desires, this was the colour a professor would expect to see when a girl’s panties came down for a punishment, and so neither extra leniency nor harshness would be required. For these girls, reporting to the nurse at the end of the month for “relief” could be fairly confident that they would be unlocked so long as their grades were good and they hadn’t been punished for anything serious that month. Keep your grades up and your nose clean and a girl could expect a satisfying orgasm once a month, or at least a nice lollipop from the nurse after her milking.
White cages were purely for new girls, and marked them as a fresh, clean, newly arrived canvas for the school to imprint its values on. Any girls in their first semester at the school were locked in white cages. A sign that they were still adjusting to the school and its rules. A bit of extra firmness was generally applied to these girls’ bottoms, in order to help them adjust, and a thorough explanation of the rule they had broken was essential as well. For a girl wearing white a few extra pages of lines after class, or a half dozen extra brush strokes were not given out of cruelty, but to help her adjust to life at the school. Further, it was policy for the standards at the end of the month to be somewhat higher for new girls, as the faculty considered it good for the girls’ moral fibre to be weaned off satisfying orgasms early in their education. At the start of their second semester, the girls were moved over to pink and joined the rest of the student body.
Green was the Good Girl cage. When the girls are lined up for their monthly “relief” those wearing the coveted green cage are always at the front of the line. A, B+, or better average and no punishment slips for 2 full semesters are required to earn this cage, and the rewards are well worth it. A cage off orgasm is nearly assured each month, and a girl bent over the desk for the paddle would have her punishment reduced to a hand-spanking or even just a warning if she was wearing green in many cases. Hard to obtain, harder yet to keep, the green cage is an object of envy for any girl not wearing one. Unlike the punitive cages, which reset to pink eventually, a girl who had earned the green cage could keep wearing it indefinitely so long as she kept her grades up and didn’t earn so much as a single punishment slip.
Just as good behaviour can earn you a cage that reduces your punishment, there were a few cages that marked the school’s troublemakers. Yellow cages weren’t for the real troublemakers, but more for girls who were trending in the wrong direction or starting to mix with the wrong crowd. A single punishment slip was permitted for girls who wore pink, but a girl with 2 or 3 slips would be moved over to the yellow cage. Firmer correction was needed to keep these girls on the straight and narrow, and a professor would almost certainly choose a slightly harsher implement, add a few strokes, or send the poor girl off for a half hour in the hallway with her red bottom on display. It was theoretically possible for a yellow-caged girl to earn an actual unlock come relief day, if she had perfect grades. However an unsatisfying and humiliating milking was far more likely, leaving the poor girl emptied, but even more desperate than when she had arrived. At the end of the semester, assuming the girl passed, her cage would reset to pink.
Red. The Brat Cage, and had been referred to as such for longer than the current headmaster had been alive. For girls with 4 or more punishment slips over the semester, or a girl who broke, or attempted to break The Golden Rule (Good Girls Don’t Cum), the Brat Cage was an effective deterrent. A girl with a red cage is loath to take her panties down for a professor, knowing that it means she will be getting the very worst selection of implements possible. The faculty is encouraged to “make an example” of girls in the Brat Cage, and getting “a bottom to match your cage” is a very real and very painful reality for the handful of girls locked in this colour. Getting unlocked is strictly forbidden, and a surprisingly high GPA is needed even for a milking. This is a hard correction, but a temporary one; the cage resets at the end of the semester back to pink, assuming the girl passes all her classes.
Black. The Permacage; The Nuclear Option; Solitary Confinement. For continued misbehaviour, and/or multiple violations of The Golden Rule, the black cage was the last hope for a cure for the truly incorrigible. All discipline is referred directly to the principal, and these sessions can last an hour or more. Any hope for relief is abandoned, as they are forbidden from even standing in line on relief day. It’s also unique in that it does not revert back to pink at the end of the semester. A girl locked in the black cage will spend one calendar year in it, even over the summer when she goes home to see her parents. After a year, the cage is removed, and replaced with a yellow one, keeping the girl “on probation” until the end of that semester before she can get a pink cage and a chance at real relief. There is almost never more than one girl wearing a black cage at the school at any one time, and in the 140 year history of the academy there has never been more than three at once. While most girls are allowed some privacy regarding their cage, black-caged girls are known to every professor so that they can keep a careful eye on them.
Emily was not having a good semester. After the whole “rental vibrator in the bathroom” fiasco, she had been demoted from pink straight down to red. Ms. Burns (That’s Mizz Burns, not Miss, and certainly not Missus; though the students did love to refer to her as OhDearGodIt Burns when they were absolutely certain they wouldn’t be overheard). Her least favourite professor had a very strict policy regarding her pop quizzes, as well as a grudge against Emily in particular. In Ms. Burns’ class the lowest 5 scoring students received corporal punishment, to encourage them to do better. Emily had just escaped this time, and was happy to not be called up to the front of the class.
Willow and Kelsi had taken the long walk to the front of the classroom first; Skirt up and panties down they had laid over Ms. Burns’ generous lap, and the sound of her hard hand meeting their tender bare bottoms had filled the classroom for some minutes while the rest of the class watched sympathetically. They were on display now, hands on their heads, skirts and panties confiscated, pink cages on display. Emily felt bad for them, especially her friend Willow, who she knew was one punishment slip away from being demoted to a yellow cage. Ms. Burns didn’t normally hand out punishment slips for a low quiz score, but students didn’t normally get an 11% on them either. Poor Willow.
The next girl up was already sniffling as she raised her skirt, revealing a yellow cage. Ms. Burns scowled in disapproval before bending her over the desk for a dozen each with the cane and strap before being sent to the corner openly crying. Emily winced in sympathy; Ms. Burns seemed to take a perverse delight in handing out pain, and any girl: cis or trans, locked or unlocked, who drew her ire was in for a rough time of it. Worse yet, Ms. Burns enjoyed punishing her students just a little too much. For the first student or two she didn’t spank any harder than any other professor, but by the third or fourth girl she had a taste for it and like an athlete hitting her stride, she could really pack a wallop.
The fourth girl up made Emily’s throat tighten, along with her cage. It was Courtney, the beautiful, kind girl who had been Emily’s first roommate, and her crush ever since. Seeing her skirt come up and panties come down brought a blush to Emily’s cheeks, just as Courtney’s own cheeks got a blush all their own. Seeing her squirm and whimper as the spanks rained down made Emily begin to drip, wetting her cage, and then her panties. Long before Ms. Burns was satisfied that Courtney had learned her lesson, Emily’s panties were positively soaked. Courtney was generally a well-behaved girl, and wasn’t getting much more than a long and sound hand-spanking, though from Ms. Burns even a hand-spanking was no laughing matter. Emily drank in every movement of Courtney’s red bottom as she wriggled off Ms. Burns lap and minced tearfully to her position in the corner to cool off.
“One last girl and then class is dismissed.” Ms. Burns informed the class, checking her list of students. “Melissa?” Twenty sets of eyes swivelled to the empty desk in the corner.
“Erm… absent, Ma’am” Kayla volunteered.
Ms. Burns scowled while Emily smiled inside, happy to see the old bat stymied for once. “Hmmmmm…” she murmured, looking down at her notes once more. Then she stopped, and put a finger to the page, double checking her information. She smiled, and looked up; straight at Emily.
“Well, since Melissa is absent, I believe that the sixth worst score belongs to Ms. Black. Front of the class, Emily. Don’t hold everyone up; we all have somewhere else to be.”
Emily sighed grimly as she stood and slowly trudged to the front of the class. She tried not to show her terror or her fear. There was no point in arguing, or trying to appeal. Ms. Burns had absolute authority over her own class. She bit her lower lip to hide her frustration and fear as she pulled up her skirt and lowered her panties… grateful that she was at least wearing regulation underwear today. Ms. Burns’ eyes narrowed when she saw the bright red tube between Emily’s legs, and even further upon seeing the wet spot in her panties; and she motioned for her to bend over the desk. Unseen by Emily, a subtly delighted smile played across the face of the professor as she walked over to her Cabinet of Correction. She lingered over the broad selection of paddles, straps, and canes; each one lovingly maintained. She had such lovely memories of each of them, but a particularly cruel paddle was her favourite. She regretted having so few excuses to use it, but a girl in a red cage was most decidedly fair game… Emily whimpered, regretting her test scores, Melissa’s absence, and hating the knowledge that had she been just a little better behaved, this wouldn’t have hurt nearly as much.
Emily shivered, looking over the class, and not daring to look back over her shoulder to where Courtney stood, her own bottom cooling in the corner. Emily hoped that her own excitement didn’t show, that her cage would pass for being dry, that Ms. Burns wouldn’t notice how wet her panties were.
“Enjoying the show, were we?”
The professor’s voice cut in. Emily heard her bend down behind her, inspecting her panties, her cage, and the dampness on the insides of her thighs. Her stomach twisted with the humiliation as the professor pressed the paddle on the inside of her thigh, leaning in for a closer look.
“Well, once we’re done here, you can explain the condition of your undergarments to the Headmaster. I’m sure he’ll be most curious to hear precisely why you’ve made such a mess of yourself. Now do try to hold still.”
Emily’s face blushed as deep a red as her cage, and she knew her bottom would soon follow.