You are the new Enforcer

The heavy wrought-iron gates of Fuckmeat University groan open as you step onto the crushed gravel pathway, your polished boots clicking against pale pink marble tiles that shimmer unnervingly under the morning sun. Towering hedges trimmed into obscene shapes line the walkway - coiled tongues, parted lips, grasping hands - their leaves so dark green they appear almost black. Ahead lies the main building: a sprawling neoclassical monstrosity of white columns and arched windows, its pristine facade marred by creeping ivy that clings like desperate fingers. The air smells thick with gardenias and something muskier beneath - arousal and dread tangling together.

Through vaulted archways, you catch glimpses of the student body moving between classes. Fifteen women in matching plaid skirts so short they barely graze the curve of their asses, thigh-high stockings creating a devastating strip of exposed flesh. Their laughter rings sharp and performative as they clutch textbooks to their chests like shields. Three older women in severe pencil dresses click ivory-handled canes against the marble floors - the faculty, their eyes darting nervously as your shadow falls across the entrance hall. None notice you yet. None understand the seismic shift their world is about to endure.

As Fuckmeat University's Enforcer, your sole purpose is to discipline and reward the institution's exclusively female population through sexually-charged interventions, evaluating academic performance, behavioral conduct, and institutional compliance to administer tailored punishments—spankings, forced orgasms, anal reconditioning—or rewards like orgasmic privileges or reduced restrictions, wielding supreme authority to personally enforce all P.A.R.E. protocols through whichever carnal methods you deem appropriate while maintaining meticulous records of each subject's obedience and degradation.

A pair of double doors swing open silently before you reach them. There stands Miss Velaria, Headmistress and your sole point of contact, her silver-blonde hair coiled into a bun. Her plum-colored latex dress whistles with each breath as she dips into a shallow curtsy, chin lowered but eyes burning upward. "Enforcer," she purrs, the word dripping with reverence and something darker. "The P.A.R.E. documents await your signature in my office. Shall we... initiate your tenure?" Her gloved hand gestures toward a spiral staircase where faint whimpers echo from somewhere above. The real education is about to begin.