The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Passion Grades

By Captain Eazy

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13

Fiona was allowed to wear only her pink latex bubble suit on the long walk across campus to Ms Carver’s office. She also still wore the metal collar locked around her neck, and Cindy went along, keeping a firm, directing hold on the chain, as though Fiona were a dog on a leash. A bitch on a leash, she corrected mentally. St. Incundita had made her nothing more or less than a bitch in constant heat.

It was a bright cold windy afternoon, and girls wearing jackets and boots stared in obvious surprise as Cindy led the shivering Fiona, clad only in the thin, stretched latex, across campus. Fiona kept her eyes down, and despite her intense self-consciousness, she couldn’t help but notice how her beautifully growing tits bounced enticingly as she took every step. Cold made her nipples project stiffly, and to tell the truth, she had to admire them, so perky, so inviting. Then, too, the little nubbled crotch pad teased her clit at every step, making the humiliating walk strangely exciting, as though she were being rewarded for being bad. “Here we go,” Cindy said as they entered the Student Center. “Don’t worry, Fi. You’ll be fine. Really.”

More murmurs of surprise came from the rec room, where the orgy mats had long since been removed and the game tables set up once again. Girls playing cards and table tennis stopped what they were doing to whisper and point as Cindy led Fiona through the big room, the chain clinking. Fiona wondered if they all knew what she had done, of her attempt to escape—and of how she had been punished and broken, reduced to abject obedience, to the warped joy of servitude.

The intricate oak-parquet floor was hard and cold beneath Fiona’s rubber-clad feet. It felt as though the soles of the suit, not really meant for walking across a long stretch of concrete sidewalk, were fraying. She hoped she would not be blamed for that. Cindy led her up the stairs, followed by dozens of wondering gazes from the girls in the rec room, and then they passed into the long corridor that led to Alexandria’s office. The receptionist showed no surprise at all. “Ms Carver’s four o’clock appointment? Just a second.” She flashed them a smile, picked up the receiver and spoke briefly. “You’re a few minutes early,” she said, hanging up, “but Ms Carver says to go on back. Your body is growing quite lovely, Fiona.”

“Thank you,” Fiona whispered, immediately cowering because she did not know whether she had permission to speak, or whether or not she might be punished.

But no one objected to her remark. Cindy took her down the corridor to the office, where Alexandria opened the door and smiled at them kindly. “Well, welcome back,” she said. “Come in, girls.”

She stepped aside and they entered her office, Fiona’s chain lead jingling merrily, and Alexandria closed the door. “Cindy,” she said. “It’s very thoughtful of you to come in with your friend.”

“It’s okay,” Cindy said, beaming at Fiona. “She’s totally changed now.”

“Has she?” Alexandria reached for the chain. “Cindy, you go and wait outside in the hall, please. I need to speak with Fiona privately. We won’t be too long.”

“Okay,” Cindy said. She gave Fiona’s latex-covered pink butt a friendly pat. “Behave yourself, now. Love you.”

Fiona didn’t reply. Cindy left her alone with Alexandria. The counselor twitched the chain and led her to the reclining chair and said, “Sit down, please. I won’t make you stretch out today.”

Obediently, Fiona sat in the chair. From habit developed over the last few weeks, she sat with her knees widely spread, feeling the latex suit tighten over her thighs and pussy. She kept her back straight, thrusting out the twin globes of her new, heavier breasts. She felt hot pink spots glowing in her cheeks and stared at a spot on the floor a few inches in front of her toes.

“Fiona,” Alexandria said in a firm but not unkind voice, “you tried to run away from St. Incundita. You must realize you put yourself in danger by doing that. That was very wrong of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Fiona murmured.

“I know about how the other girls have treated you. In fact, I told them to do those things to you, as a way of bringing you to your senses. Do you think you deserved your punishment?”

Fiona did not look up. “I deserve whatever you do to me. I’m a slave.”

“That’s right. You are a slave. How does that make you feel?” Alexandria asked in an even, reasonable tone.

Fiona began to reply, paused, and thought deeply for a moment. To her surprise, she did not have to lie. “It feels good,” she confessed. Then, incredibly, she could not keep from smiling in devilish delight. “It’s wonderful, Alexandria. I can do all the dirty things I dream of, be as nasty as I can imagine, and it isn’t my fault because none of the things I do are my decision. It feels tremendous.” She took a deep breath, feeling suddenly light and cheerful, and as happy as a ten-year-old at her big birthday party.

Alexandria’s smile grew almost maternal. There was something of parental pride in it. “Very good. Fiona, you are a St. Incundita girl. Now I believe you truly are. And you won’t ever try to run away again, will you?”

“No, ma’am.” No actress could possibly have put the level of ringing conviction in the reply Fiona gave. To her very depths she knew it was true. Run away? She couldn’t think of it. She had to smile at what a silly girl she had been back on Halloween night. How could that foolish and repressed girl realize how much she would be giving up if she fled St. Incundita’s College for Women? “I won’t run away ever again,” she promised. “I belong to St. Incundita now.”

Alexandria sat on the edge of her desk and reached across it to pick up a flat package from her IN tray. “I want to show you something,” she said. “Here.”

She handed Fiona a plain, unmarked middle-sized manila envelope, with something rectangular and fairly heavy inside, feeling a bit like an odd-shaped paperback. Fiona held the package unopened in her hands.

“You may open it,” Alexandria said, looking pleased that Fiona had not acted on her own but had waited to be instructed. “Look at what’s inside.”

Fiona undid the metal clasp and opened the envelope. From inside it she took a stack of thirty or forty five-by-seven-inch glossy color photos, all printed on heavy stock. “Oh!” she said, staring open-mouthed at the one on top. It was a very clear picture of her, just her face in profile close-up. She knew she had to be kneeling, because in the photo her pink gleaming tongue was fully extended, lapping a girl’s pussy—it had to be June’s pussy, hairless as were all those of St. Incundita’s girls, but easily identifiable by the darling little brown mole just to the right of her love mound. Fiona’s face in the photo was flushed with decadent pleasure, her visible eye was closed, and her expression was rapt. Anyone looking at the picture would know she was not just pretending but really and truly enjoying the moment, savoring the intimate tastes and textures of another girl.

The others were similar: Fiona servicing the other girls’ pussies and assholes with dildoes, smiling in a dreamy, ecstatic way; Fiona herself being licked and caressed and teased in a variety of manners. There was one very good, clear photograph of Fiona tonguing someone’s pink asshole, and another of her lying back in sheer luxury as Trudy and June both suckled her tits, her fingers busy at her own clit. Slowly Fiona went through the pictures one by one, astonished at their sexual rawness, at the sheer depraved abandonment readable on her face. She really looked like a bad, bad girl, but one who celebrated and flaunted her badness, who used it as a great talent.

The last photograph simply stunned her: Fiona at full length, kneeling on the bed, actually sitting astride Cindy’s face, head thrown back as her roommate brought her to a shattering orgasm with her fabulous, capable tongue. The photographer had caught her at the very instant of release. Fiona’s hands were playing with her own ripening and lovely tits, tugging at the swollen pink nipples, and her face was locked in breathless ecstasy, lower lip caught tight in her white teeth, her skin glistening with the dewy sweat of sexual effort. It was a magnificent photo, a masterpiece of unabashed pornography. It made Fiona instantly wet, even made her whimper in remembrance of that moment, and she knew that any straight man would come to hard throbbing readiness just from a glimpse of it. “I didn’t know anyone was taking pictures,” she said hoarsely.

“You were instructed to forget the camera, and you did forget it.”

“You can even do that?”

“Of course we can, dear. We control your mind now, you see. You inhabit it but we control it. You may remember the camera now.”

And memory flooded in, of the other girls taking turns as photographer, of their bawdy suggestions for lewd poses and her own eager efforts to carry out every sexy direction. It had all been such, such fun! Of course, she remembered now—she had taken such gratifying joy in displaying herself for the camera, in exposing her full range of wanton behavior.

Alexandra nodded. “You remember now, and as you see, your friends carefully recorded all of your activities over the past week. There are a hundred more, but these are the very best. Now, would you like me to send your father copies of these?” Alexandria asked in a polite voice.

Fiona’s hands shook, making the stack of photos flutter. Her heart thudded hard. “No,” she said, jerking her gaze away from the lascivious pictures. “Oh, God, no! Please, no! I’ll do anything!”

Alexandria crossed her arms and looked straight into Fiona’s eyes with her pale hazel stare. “There are very strict conditions that we must discuss. You must understand what is at stake, Fiona. This will be your one and only warning, your only chance at winning full forgiveness. From this time forward, if you step out of line at all, in the least way, or if you disobey any order, no matter how trivial or how degrading it might be—if, in short, you do not behave as a St. Incundita girl ought, I will send these and the other photographs straight to your father. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Fiona, you are a St. Incundita girl. Tell me now, truthfully, what do you think about the act of sex? I order you to be absolutely honest with me.”

“I love sex,” Fiona heard herself confess even as she felt the pink spots of shame on her cheeks grow larger. “I love it when I come and when I make the other girls come. It’s what I’m made for. I realize that now.”

“Are you ashamed of these photos?”

“No. At least—no. Not if you don’t show them to my daddy. No, I—I love the way I look in them. Look at this one. You can tell I’m just about to come. It’s so sexy! Oh, I love to come! I can’t get enough of it. I can’t wait to feel a cock inside me!”

“That’s a good, positive attitude, Fiona. Do you remember all the worries you talked to me about? Tell me, do you fret about behaving like a lesbian with your friends now?”

Fiona smiled. “Oh, no! All sex is good. I’m made to give and receive pleasure. I love all kinds of sex.” Fiona licked her lips. “I love it when they order me to do the nastiest, dirtiest things to them, and it’s heaven when I can make Cindy and Trudy and June come, I love their whimpering and their squeals. Oh, God, I love the tastes of their pussies and the way their tits get all swollen and pink-splotched when they come, and the way their toes clench and the way—” she broke off, feeling that she was babbling in an unseemly way. “I love to make them come,” she finished softly.

For a few seconds Alexandria regarded her with her strangely pale eyes, a pleased little smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Then she uncrossed her arms, leaned forward, and softly asked, “Would you like to make me come right now, Fiona?”

“Oh, yes, Alexandria!” Fiona felt a wave of adoration, of excitement and anticipation. “I’d love to be your slave. Order me to do anything, and you’ll see.”

Alexandria reached for the stack of photos and tossed them onto the desk. She eased her ass up onto the desk, hiked up her skirt, and spread her legs. “That’s what I like to hear from my girls. Show me that you’ve really changed. Make me come, Fiona.”

Alexandria was so sweet, giving her a chance to demonstrate her new feelings! Determining to prove to her that she was a true St. Incundita girl now, Fiona got up and took the two steps forward that brought her between her teacher’s outspread legs. Looking down, Fiona realized that Alexandria’s smoke-gray stockings were held up by a garter belt, and that the counselor wore no panties. Eagerly, Fiona dropped to a submissive, kneeling position, feeling the carpet plush against her latex-covered knees. She placed her hands on Alexandria’s stocking-clad thighs. If only her palms had not been encased in the rubber bubble-suit gloves she could have felt the enticing texture of tautly stretched stockings over creamy, smooth, quivering warm flesh. Fiona tenderly lowered her mouth down to the older woman’s hairless slit and began to lick and nibble the intimate, frilly folds of her pussy. Alexandria caressed her head, gently guiding her, and Fiona soon found the rhythm that pleased Alexandria the most, long, luscious flicks of her tongue, slipping right into her hot, dripping pussy, working in wicked swirls up and over her clit. “Yes,” Alexandria said. “Yes, that’s right, that’s good. There, Fiona, right there. Faster, now!”

Fiona obeyed eagerly, lashing her tongue over Alexandria’s clit, breathing in the intoxicating scent of heated pussy, yearning to finger her counselor’s slit too, to thrust into that tight, wet opening. She moved her right hand and tentatively stroked Alexandria’s labia. Alexandria felt that and moved her hips forward, plunging her pussy over Alexandria’s first two fingers, engulfing them. With a hot rush of excitement, Fiona began to pump her depths, hearing the slushing sound, feeling the clamp of excited muscle. Her head swam with her own building excitement, and she savored the taste of cunt, licking, swallowing, finger-fucking all at once. She felt Alexandria’s pussy tighten and clench, felt her shudder with orgasm, and let her ride the wave down, down, finally withdrawing her fingers, finally moving her head back as Alexandria pulled away.

“That’s enough,” the older woman said. “That was very good. You did a wonderful job, my sweet slave. Fiona, we are giving you a second chance. You may return to classes tomorrow morning, and there will be no further penalty. You will be a good St. Incundita girl from now on. You will always obey. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Fiona said, humbly and gratefully.

“And if you obey and please those whom you must please, you will be happy and I will not speak to your father of your disappointing attempt to leave us. If you fail again, however, your father will receive these photographs. I want you to enjoy the last weeks of the term, Fiona. I want you to indulge yourself in every permitted way. And at the end of term, we will have our traditional class parties, like the Halloween gathering you spied on. I will expect you to attend the freshman party. You will be there, and you will join in and participate. Stand up now.”

Fiona rose to her feet, and Alexandria slipped off the desk, straightened her skirt, and went around to the far side. She opened a drawer and took something small and glittery out of it. She came back and said, “Turn around.”

Fiona obeyed, felt Alexandria touch the metal collar, heard a click, and realized that the counselor had unlocked the linked segments. The collar came off, and oddly, Fiona felt that she was going to miss that heavy, cold symbol of her utter subservience. “You are going to need to wash your neck,” Alexandria wryly observed. “That will be all, Fiona. You are dismissed.”

Fiona left the office and found Cindy waiting in the hall, and when her roommate saw that Fiona was no longer wearing the collar, she squealed, scooped Fiona up in her arms in a tight embrace, and gave her a deep kiss. When Cindy pulled away, she smacked her lips. “Yum! You’ve been eating pussy!”

“Ms Carver’s,” Fiona agreed happily. “She’s letting me go back to class. Oh, Cindy, she’s got all these great photographs of us! You ought to see them. . . .”

Cindy laughed. “I have, silly! Come on, let’s get you home and out of that suit and celebrate your slavery.” She gave Fiona a sharp slap on the rump that made her flinch with pleasure. Arm in arm they walked back to the dorm, chattering like little chipmunks, and this time Fiona didn’t even feel the cold.

* * *

Late November already! Fiona had lost count of the days, but Thanksgiving had already come and gone, and in a few days it would be December. She showed up a little early for Professor Richard Barnes’s English class the next afternoon. He saw her come in, but expressed no surprise at seeing her back in class, made no observation at all to indicate that he had even missed her. The girls were all wearing their winter clothes now, soft tight white cashmere sweaters with the St. Incundita monogram on the left breast and either short plaid skirts, on on exceptionally cold days alluring stretch pants in their class colors, pink, orange, black, or red, together with tight-fitting, flexible knee-length black boots, three-inch spiked heels on them, of course. The pants were so tight and form-fitting that none of the girls wore panties beneath them, though by that part of the term most of them had given up wearing them under the skirts as well. The outfit made Fiona feel both wickedly sexy and as adorable as a little white kitten. Her classmates murmured soft greetings as she strutted in and took a seat in a desk in the front row.

As usual, Professor Barnes began by calling the roll, and when he got to Fiona’s name, he glanced up and smiled. Naughtily, acting purely on impulse, Fiona scooted her butt forward in the chair and spread her legs wide, revealing to the only male teacher on campus that she wore no panties beneath her short skirt. She heard him chuckle as she flashed him, and he said mildly, “Well, Miss Sullivan, I’m glad to see you’re in the pink again.”

The class was now reading Romeo and Juliet, and as they discussed the first meeting of the two young lovers at a party thrown by Juliet’s father and crashed by Romeo and his friends, Professor Barnes pointed out that the first fourteen lines the two characters spoke to each other made a perfect English sonnet. “Sonnets were the hot love songs of Shakespeare’s day, the means of expressing one’s deepest passions. Let’s demonstrate,” he said. “Um, Cindy, Fiona, come up front, please, and bring your books. Now, Cindy, you play the part of Romeo. After all, in Shakespeare’s day, boys played girls, so a little turnabout is fair play, I’d say. And Fiona, you take Juliet’s lines. Now, Romeo has just approached Juliet and has led her out in a dance. A very stately dance, very elegant, one in which the partners hold right hands. Like the words, it is a symbol of sexual hunger. See if you can find that in the lines, girls. Make us understand the passion that these two feel for each other, make it clear to us. Go ahead, Fiona, hold Romeo’s hand. Hold it as if you’ve just met the boy of your dreams and you’re wild about him. Yes, that’s right. And Cindy, the dance ends and Romeo says—”

Cindy, holding her textbook in her left hand and holding hands with Fiona with her right, read aloud,

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

Fiona, feeling tremulous as a virginal girl who had just seen the love of her life for the first time, responded,

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Cindy, drawing her closer, asked,

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

Breathing shallowly, Fiona read Juliet’s answer:

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

With heavy, bedroom eyes, Cindy said,

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Would she actually do it, Fiona wondered. Would she—but she had another line here:

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Cindy’s voice husked as she ended the sonnet with, “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” and without asking if she should, she pulled Fiona into an embrace and kissed her on the mouth.

After an intoxicating moment, Fiona dropped her book, and Cindy dropped hers, and the two girls clung together, bodies pressing tight, mouth trying to devour mouth, in front of the whole class, and Fiona felt Cindy running her hands down, pulling her skirt up, cupping her bare ass, and pulling her tight, grinding against her. Oh, she wished Cindy had a cock! Or that she could—well, why not?

Fiona tugged her sweater up, and Cindy bent her head and lovingly sucked her tits, then stood again in a tight, tight embrace and ground her pubis hard against Fiona’s. Fiona gasped as they dry-humped standing there, and she was ready to come, but dimly she heard applause, and gasping, she looked around. Professor Barnes was clapping, and the whole class had joined in. “Bravo,” the teacher said. “Oh, well done, ladies. Yes, that’s exactly the kind of passion that William Shakespeare tried to capture. You both get a well-deserved A. I’ll expect you to work on that even more, though. I suggest you finish playing out that scene as homework!”

“Yes, sir!” Fiona said happily.

* * *

Swimming was next. Fiona found it so odd to think that it once had been her least favorite class. Now she yearned to see the other fifteen girls in their tight, hot latex wrappings, to appreciate their burgeoning bodies. In the locker room, Fiona eagerly sprayed Shanese’s body with the silicone lubricant, and before starting with the suit, she fingered the black girl’s slit. “Umm, I’d like to make love to you some time,” she murmured.

Shanese chuckled. “Girl, a chocolate and vanilla swirl can be arranged, but don’t make us late for class!”

They were now working on the backstroke, and once they were all in the pool Fiona realized that Shanese had gained immense confidence in the weeks since she had last seen the girl. Now Shanese didn’t need her coaching at all, and as she lay back in the water and made long, graceful strokes, her big, bouncy boobs stood up above the surface, dark-tipped beneath the thinly-stretched pink latex, and the sight made Fiona’s mouth water. Ms Jorgen worked one-on-one with Fiona, explaining the breast stroke and watching as Fiona tried it. “Good,” the teacher said. “That’s passable, so you aren’t too far behind. Now the back stroke. First float. Good. Now here is how you do it. . . .”

Her hands touched Fiona’s body, showing her how to give her weight to the water, how and when to breathe, and how the backstroke could either be a powerful sprint or a long, slow, lazy pleasure, just like sex. Reveling in the touch of her teacher’s muscular hands, Fiona wondered how she had ever thought Ms Jorgen strict and frightening. It was so kind of her to pay her special attention, especially after Fiona had been so wrong-headed as to run away from this wonderful place.

And after the lesson, in the showers, Fiona got her chance to make Shanese come, and Shanese returned the favor, and all the girls in class watched and giggled and frankly admired their hot performance. She got lots of compliments on her cunnilingual technique and some veiled invitations from three of the other girls, who wanted to pick up some pointers. It was a really, really good day.

14

And that was just the first of many good days. The second of December brought gray skies and then six inches of snow, the first substantial snowfall that Florida-bred Fiona had ever seen. For that whole day, classes were dismissed just to let the girls of St. Incundita sport in the first snow of winter. Because of safety concerns they were allowed to wear low heels, and Fiona strangely missed the spiked ones, the bawdy, ass-twitching strut that they made her take as she walked, her round hips rolling and her breasts bouncing. She, Trudy, Susan, and Cindy worked together and made a spectacular snowman, stout and jolly and anatomically correct—one carrot was his nose, and another larger one, stuck point-first into his crotch above two tangerines that served as balls, was his dick. They then made a sitting naked snow woman who was giving him head. Everyone thought it was a masterpiece of lecherous art. The teachers even came over and made approving comments and took photos of the proud girls, red-faced in the cold, showing off their coarse creation.

Final exams came up before they knew it. Fiona’s grades suffered a little because of her long absence from classes, but even so she managed to pull a respectable low B, a 3.2. Cindy beat her out with a 3.5, but there was no rivalry between the girls, and Fiona felt nothing but pleasure that her tasty, limber roommate had done so well. The big end of term parties were planned for the last few days before the girls would go home for Christmas break. Cindy kept dropping mysterious hints that Fiona was really going to enjoy that Friday night’s festivities.

The parties were staggered by class. The seniors held their big celebration on Wednesday night, the juniors and sophomores would combine in a memorable carnival on Thursday, and last of all the lowly freshmen would have their party on Friday night. By Saturday morning the campus would be deserted and would remain so for the next three whole weeks during the Christmas break.

On Wednesday afternoon, with all their finals over and nothing much to do, Cindy and Fiona went to the gym to work off a little physical tension. Lots of the girls were there in the exercise room, a rainbow of latex bodysuits, the bubble-gum pink of freshmen, the fiery orange of sophomores, the sophisticated black of juniors, and the adorable devilish bright scarlet of seniors. Cindy and Fiona rode stationary bikes and admired the figures of the other girls. “Your boobs are looking so gorgeous now,” Cindy observed.

“Think what they’ll be like when we’re seniors,” Fiona returned. “I mean, look over there!” Two figures in red were just ahead of them, working out on rowing machines, and their tits were indeed spectacular, their nipples always erect, jutting out more than an inch at all times. Fiona couldn’t wait. She knew now that the drink she consumed eagerly three times a day not only contained hormones and enzymes that promoted breast growth, but also compounds that wonderfully enhanced the sensitivity of her erogenous zones, making her nipples and her clit hair-triggers to sexual release. She yearned to feel more, and she wished that the rules of the college didn’t forbid dalliance between the classes. Yum, just imagine having those tight, erect nipples between her lips, her tongue teasing and tormenting and making a senior come just from that attention! That would be so cool.

And, she had also found out, the drink contained immunizing agents and mild hypnotics. She was safe from virtually all diseases now. All St. Incundita girls were. More, the drink contained a birth-control substance. That was why her periods, formerly a little irregular, had become so punctual and lasted such a short time, only a couple of days, with no PMS at all. It was so good, being a St. Incundita girl. They were all being given a container of powered mixture to tide them over the break, enough so that, once they dissolved a quarter of a cup of it in twelve ounces of skim milk, they would continue their regimen uninterrupted. That satisfied Fiona, who didn’t want her boobs to miss out on one single millimeter of growth and who didn’t want to lose the fulfilling sense of sexual slavery.

The freshmen were confined to their dorm for the next two evenings, while the other classes celebrated the end of term with orgies of their own. The younger girls found ways of keeping themselves amused, of course, but Fiona felt her curiosity and excitement mounting as Friday arrived. The campus by then had a sort of wistful atmosphere, for the upper classes had either already left for the break or were departing that day in a steady stream on the campus buses. By late afternoon, only the hundred and twenty-five freshman girls remained on a campus designed for six hundred or more students.

In the early evening, as the sky was turning a deep purple and a few stars were winking on, Fiona and Cindy strolled over to the Student Center, passing their cock-sucking snow woman and her frosty friend. Sun had dwindled them, and now both of them had lost weight, but the two girls were happy to see that the snow woman’s head had slipped forward over the carrot. She was now deep-throating her partner, a technique that Cindy had demonstrated with her vibrator but one that Fiona had never quite dared to try. When they got to the Student Center, Cindy led Fiona not to the rec room, where the orgy mats had been laid out again, but to a rest room. “Got to get you nice and ready,” she said mysteriously.

Fiona felt puzzled. They had both showered and they were both naked under their coats—what else needed to be done? But after making her shed her coat, Cindy took something from her own coat pocket. “Turn around.”

Very quickly, Cindy slipped something over her head and secured it so it covered her eyes completely: a blindfold. Standing naked in the sudden darkness, Fiona began to feel a building excitement. Freshmen weren’t supposed to know about it, but every year one special girl was selected from each class to—well, of course those stories might just be rumors. She was only a slave. She mustn’t get her hopes up.

“Put your hands behind you,” Cindy said, and Fiona obeyed. She felt something click on her wrists. Handcuffs, but lined with something soft. “Too tight?” Cindy asked.

“No.” Fiona’s heart was pounding, exalted at the promised subjugation of her will. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Cindy chuckled. “It’s not just the girls tonight. About fifty boys from town, trustworthy ones, have been invited. You just wait. You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”

Oh, God. Boys. Cocks. At last!

But I’ve never had one inside me. What if I humiliate myself? What if the guy doesn’t like my cunt, or what if I can’t make him come?

Fiona heard the rustle as Cindy removed her own coat. As if Cindy could read her mind, she said, “Stop fretting, Fi. You’ve seen the movies, you know where everything goes. It will be easy, I promise, and I’ll be right there to help you. Come on, sweetie,” she said, holding onto Fiona’s arm above the elbow. “I’ll guide you.”

Padding along barefoot, they left the small room, turned right, and in a few seconds stepped into the big open space of the rec room. Fiona felt the difference in the air, and she heard the murmur of voices and smelled the heady tang of eager pussy. Her bare feet stepped onto the yielding, soft mats that covered the rec room floor. “Let us through,” Cindy said. “Fi, lots of people want to touch you. We’re gonna walk real slow.”

Hands indeed touched her as very slowly, almost regally, step by step, Cindy led her through the crowd. Fiona heard murmurs, felt caresses on her tits, her ass, even fingers lightly stroking her pussy, lips pressing her thighs, tongues flicking at her crevice, at her nipples. She groaned, excited to be blindfolded and bound and helpless. Whatever happened was not her fault. She could give herself fully up to pleasure, surrender completely to lust. She was a St. Incundita girl.

“We’re gonna take a step up now,” Cindy said. “Here. Careful.”

They were mounting the steps to the low stage at one end of the room. The voices murmured more insistently, and Fiona wondered what was going to happen to her. More mats on the stage. They walked to what had to be center stage, and Cindy said very quietly, “Get on your knees. Good. Now lean forward. Don’t worry about falling.”

Fiona trusted her and knelt. She bent forward at the waist and felt against her belly something soft yet firm—a low ottoman or something like that, fur-covered, soft and comfy, just the right height to let her bend forward with her hands still bound behind her.

“Now,” Cindy whispered in her ear. “Surprise.”

She felt something touch her cheek, smelled an unfamiliar but intoxicating scent, and the smooth, hot object traced its way across her lips, leaving a faint trail of liquid.

A dick! A guy was rubbing his dick right in her face!

Her first cock—one of the town boys was going to let her suck him off! So that was the big surprise of the evening.

Fiona trembled in joyful anticipation, but she knew that she couldn’t give in, could not yet open her mouth to accept this wonderful gift. She had to wait, for she was a slave, and someone had to order her.

“Suck it,” Cindy whispered. “Make him come.”

“Yes!” Fiona opened her lips then, accepted the bulbous straining head. Oh, God, it was so big, it filled her mouth! Springy and so incredibly smooth, hot and yielding and lovely. She remembered the training films, the sexy talks she had had with the experienced Cindy, and she determined to do this right, to tease and taunt the lucky boy and prolong the moment as much as possible.

She swept her tongue over the wonderfully silky, slick surface, very slowly and sensuously. She pulled back and kissed the stiff rigid shaft, working her lips along it mischievously, coming back again at last to the helmet, the head, and pointing her tongue to explore the tiny slit. It tasted amazingly like a girl’s cunt! Something salty and slippery oozed from the little opening. Cum? No, she had seen in the DVDs how cum spurted out in a great white fountain. This was something different, some slick fluid, maybe some kind of natural lubricant. She loved the feel of the cock on her tongue, and she loved the taste of it. It was different from a girl’s juices, but so good, so astonishing. She remembered Alexandria mouth-fucking the policeman, Officer Cullen, and she tried that, bobbing her head, keeping up a constant suction. Faster and faster she moved, hungering for the cum that the cock would soon jet out—“Oh!” she cried out in abrupt frustration. The boy had unexpectedly pulled away.

But Cindy was there again, whispering in her ear. “Spread your legs. More. More. Wider. Yes, that’s it. Are you ready to be fucked?”

Fear flared in her, and the old dull shame. But she had no choice in the matter. It wasn’t her fault. “Y-yes,” she rasped, aware that she must be the object of all attention in the huge room, that everyone was about to see her take her first cock.

And her pussy, God, her pussy was so wet, so ready! She felt quick pressure, a bright flash of pain, nothing she couldn’t handle, and ahh! The boy was deep, deep inside her! She was being fucked, being deflowered in front of an audibly admiring audience. She groaned as the boy began to pump her. Oh, God, it was so good! She moaned, “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Yes, fuck me!”

“Shh.” Cindy was in front of her, kissing her, and she sucked on Cindy’s tongue, grunting at each burning stroke of that splendid cock in her tight eager cunt. People were cheering. She was thrusting her round ass back, feeling it smack solidly against the boy’s thighs, and he gripped her hips and directed her as she fucked, fucked, fucked him. I’m doing it! I’m getting fucked right in public, I’m losing my virginity, and everyone can see! Oh, I love to be a St. Incundita girl, I love this—ahh!

Her pussy suddenly and involuntarily clamped, and she shuddered and squealed into Cindy’s mouth as the best orgasm of her life tore the world into brilliant fragments. Oh, God, she thought she would pass out.

A moment later she felt the boy’s rod jerk and spasm, and then hot jets of cum shot into her, and she came again, and even better, screaming loud in release this time, and all the room applauded and cheered.

The man’s member went soft inside her, and he oozed out, she pressing her ass back to keep him inside her to the last possible second. She felt his juices dribbling from her pussy, trickling down her thighs. A moment later the lock on the cuffs clicked and her hands were free, and then Cindy pulled the blindfold off. “Straighten up on your knees. Turn around,” Cindy said with a grin.

Fiona rose to her knees and turned. “Oh!”

Professor Richard Barnes, splendidly naked and muscular, hung like a horse, stood smiling down at her. “Well done,” he said. “Clean me up, Fiona.”

She gazed up at him in sheer adoration. “Yes, sir.”

“I think you can call me Ric now,” he said, and the room again exploded in laughter and cheers.

His dick dripped with white cum and a couple of small streaks of red virginal blood, like a fleshy candy cane, and Fiona took it into her mouth and sucked and savored the taste of his juices mingled with her own. Now that her hands were free, she caressed his balls, feeling them heavy in their sac, and ran her other hand over and over his firm ass. She was so instinctively good at fellating him that within seconds he began to harden again, and hoping he would fuck her once more, Fiona sucked and nibbled and teased mischievously, maddeningly.

But then he reached down, took her by both hands, and pulled her to her feet. Now for the first time she looked around. All hundred and twenty-five freshmen girls were in the room, naked and lovely, paired in twos with the lucky guys from town, all of them stripped, handsome, dazed-looking young males who seemed to be unable to grasp their incredible good fortune, each one attended by at least two uninhibited St. Incundita girls. Ric held up one hand for silence, caressing Fiona’s round, bare ass with the other, and said, “Welcome, all! Students, I have a slight confession to make, something that the freshman class has not been aware of until this evening. I am not only an English teacher, young ladies, but also the chancellor of St. Incundita. I am, in short, the master of the college, and so I am the master of you all, teachers and students alike. You are all St. Incundita girls!”

They all moaned, “Yes!” in unison, and Fiona heard herself join in.

“Fiona here came to us as a shy virgin,” he said. “As were a few more of you—though most of you were eager to escape that dreary condition, and most of you did so at the first opportunity. Fiona was very resistant, though, and felt very reluctant. For that reason she has been chosen as this year’s symbol of what St. Incundita can do for you all. In September, Fiona was timid and conflicted about sex. She believed sex was dirty and shameful and she despised herself for having very strong natural desires. Now, as you see, she has changed completely. She has been transformed by her experience here from a guilt-ridden, shy young woman into a wanton, eager nymph. She adores sex—and if I may say so, she is very, very good at it! You have seen her deflowered, and now she is ready to give and receive as much pleasure as she can. Each year one lucky member of each class is selected as the representative of what the college can do. Fiona, congratulations. You are not only a St. Incundita girl, for the freshman class you are the St. Incundita girl this year. You will enjoy yourself to the fullest tonight, and that is an order! You will be wild, you will be free, but you will be the slave of all. In your eagerness and your complete submission, you will show the others the way. Let us begin the celebration. Ladies, indulge yourselves!”

It was by far the sweetest and the most memorable night of Fiona’s entire life. As the orgy began, it soon became clear that everyone in the room wanted to make love with her. She would have so many delightful memories to take with her: two cocks buried in her at once, one in her pussy, one in her asshole, as she jerked off two more boys and sucked off yet another one. Five splendid cocks, and they all gave her their cum! The room became a heaving, moaning mass of hot flesh, mouths, cocks, pussies, hands, assholes, and it was as if she had become merely part of an enormous sexual being, almost mindless, groping, seeking and receiving and giving pleasure to anyone within reach, in every way possible.

Boys who couldn’t wait to take their turn and join in jerked off over her. Her body became glazed in their gleaming cum, and Shanese and Trudy eagerly licked it off, their tongues stimulating her to more and keener desire. Her mouth and fingers satisfied Ms Jorgen, and a fantastic moment came late in the evening when Ric, rested and hugely potent again, fucked her mouth until she was dizzy and then gratifyingly filled it with a scalding hot gush of cum. Cindy insisted on tasting it, and as other girls and some of the boys caressed their tits and pussies the roommates passed the cum back and forth, mouth to mouth, again and again, until they had swallowed every drop.

The boys were exhausted long before the night was over, and soft but still horny—if only in a philosophical sense—they watched the girls of St. Incundita do each other until dawn. Whenever one of the guys mustered another erection, even a half-hearted one, two or three squealing girls would descend on him. Sometimes he would be so soft they couldn’t even take him in their pussies, but their mouths and fingers worked their magic and time and time again, some lucky guy came one more time than he thought he could. And then again, and again, and again.

By two in the morning, Fiona felt sated at last, pussy-sore and utterly spent. She lay back as some girl she didn’t even know licked and lapped at her labia. Her head rested in Cindy’s lap, and Cindy was lovingly stroking her tits. A guy watching them and being sucked by two girls suddenly gasped and his cock, trapped between two hot, demanding mouths, twitched and sprayed a thin stream of semen right across Fiona’s boobs. Cindy didn’t even slow down, but massaged the hot liquid right into her skin, as though it were a beauty cream. “Gee,” Fiona sighed happily, “I so hope someone’s taking pictures of this!”

15

Saturday afternoon found Fiona still tender, but feeling totally fulfilled. She had packed her essentials for the winter break in one rolling suitcase, and she and Cindy caught the one o’clock bus to the airport. “It’s gonna be totally weird being without you for three whole weeks,” Cindy complained, leaning her head on Fiona’s shoulder as the bus jounced along.

“Well, you’ve got your little battery-powered fuck buddy to get you through,” Fiona said with a laugh. “Me, I’m just going to have to make do with my fingers.”

Cindy gave Fiona a sly nudge. “Maybe we can talk the bus driver into swinging by the sex-toy shop. You could pick up a little vibrator of your own. They’ve got these adorable Japanese ones shaped like real cocks, and with little bunnies on the tops with soft buzzing ears to tickle your clit. And Derrick would love to meet you. And I just know you’d love to eat him.”

“Dream on,” Fiona moaned, thinking of the vibrator. “If my dad caught me with something like that in my suitcase, he’d send me to a nunnery or something.”

“Well, anyway, we can call and wish each other Merry Christmas and have some hot phone sex,” Cindy said. “That won’t be so bad, rubbing ourselves off while we tell each other exactly what we’d like to be doing to each other.”

“I love you,” Fiona whispered to Cindy. “Thanks so much for not giving up on me.”

“I knew there was a great piece of ass buried in that twitchy shell of yours,” Cindy returned. “Hey, I love you, too. I’d like to love you two or three times right now, but I’m afraid the driver might run the bus right off the road and kill us all.”

They had to split up in the airport. Cindy went one way to catch a flight to her home way out in San Diego, and Fiona went the other for her connection to Orlando. They had been apart for maybe five whole minutes when Fiona’s cell phone chimed—the freshmen girls had all found their cell phones, which had been taken up at the beginning of the term, fully charged and waiting for them in their rooms right after the glorious Friday-night orgy.

“Hello?” Fiona said.

“I wanna eat your pussy,” Cindy purred softly.

“You whore.”

“You slut.”

They both laughed, and then Cindy whispered, “Miss you already! Have a good trip, sweetie.”

“You too. I hope you find some great tanned California guys and get royally fucked,” Fiona said fondly.

She checked in at the gate, and the desk attendant glanced at her ticket. “Miss Sullivan. Seat 33A, a window seat. Wait just a second, I think there’s a note in the computer about you. Yes, here it is. I can give you a free upgrade to first class.”

“Uh—sure,” Fiona said. She had never flown first class.

The attendant winked. “Courtesy of your college,” she said in a low voice. “You’re one very lucky girl.” Her fingers danced over her computer keyboard, and in a few seconds the printer spat out a brand-new boarding pass for Fiona.

She got seat 3A, boarded the plane first, and settled in to a luxurious first-class accommodation. A friendly flight attendant offered her a tropical drink, something with strawberries and a nice jolt of rum in it, and Fiona accepted it gracefully. The seat next to her remained vacant, so she could really stretch out. The plane took off right on time for the three-hour flight down to Florida. Staring out the window as the brilliant white snow-covered landscape below slowly turned to the browns and dull greens of a Southern winter, Fiona wondered if all her classmates got the same kind of attention from their airlines, or whether as the St. Incundita Girl of the Year for the freshman class she was being shown special courtesies.

Or—my God, could it be—did the reach of St. Incundita’s College for Women stretch far enough to include flight attendants, airline executives, maybe even politicians and important figures in world affairs? Powerful women were everywhere these days. Of course, it was one thing for the college to exert control over the local police force—if all the officers were like Mr. Cullen, they could be bought off by a simple blow job. But suppose, just suppose, that Fiona had joined the ranks of an organization that stretched everywhere, that worked behind the scenes, under the sheets, as it were. What if, in time, the lowliest slave could become a commanding mistress? She grinned delightedly to herself and settled back in her big first-class seat. It suddenly felt a little like a throne.

She thought of tasty, lusty Cindy and sighed. How was she going to get through three whole weeks without sex? Her lewd thoughts drifted to her stepmother Diane and she impulsively giggled. Diane’s great body, she knew now, was her legacy from St. Incunditas. And Diane was so beautiful, with her oval face, her long, long strawberry-blonde hair, her full, pouting lips. Oh, she was just made to be loved. Fiona was so grateful that her dad had taken Diane’s advice and had picked out St. Incundita for his innocent daughter. Maybe Diane would be open to a little lascivious playtime when Dad wasn’t around. That would be so naughty, so deliciously wicked, to eat out her own stepmom in her dad’s bed. But it was something she couldn’t exactly ask for.

For there was a definite hierarchy: St. Incundita students had to obey all teachers and all other students senior to them. St. Incundita alums ranked above students and just below the teachers. Diane would have to make the first move, if a move was to be made at all. Fiona knew that being a slave, and being on the lowest level of the pecking order at that, limited her as well as freed her. She would have to wait and see. Still, she couldn’t help fantasizing little ways to let Diane know that the lessons of St. Incundita had sunk in, that she was receptive and compliant. Her mind floated into beautiful daydreams, fully as vivid and as raunchy as any of the photographs Alexandria had showed her.

Six o’clock, and at last the airliner swept down over the glittering lights of Orlando, already twinkling bright in the winter twilight. The plane came in for a smooth landing, and the passengers got up and began to open the overheads for their luggage. A handsome young flight attendant came to take Fiona’s bag down for her. He glanced at her heavy long winter coat. “Won’t need that here,” he said. “You must have spent some time up in the frozen tundra.”

“I’m just getting home from college. St. Incundita,” Fiona explained in a breathy, seductive tone. “I’m a St. Incundita girl, you know.”

To her disappointment, the young man just nodded genially. “Well, that’s great. Here you are, Miss. Welcome home, and have a nice Christmas.”

Shoot. Maybe St. Incundita was less of a globe-encircling force than she had imagined. A tired but contented Fiona deplaned and made her way out past security and into the terminal building. She took out her cell phone and speed-dialed her home number. Her stepmother Diane answered on the first ring. “Hi,” Fiona said. “Uh, I’m at the airport now. Is Dad coming to pick me up?”

“Fiona!” Diane exclaimed. “It will be so good to have you home. Listen, darling, your dad and I are very busy, so we want you to take a taxi home. Use your ATM for cash—don’t worry, you’ve got a nice healthy balance, a little reward from your dad for getting a B average your first term. And Fiona, you are a St. Incundita girl.”

At those words, immediately everything went dreamy and soft. Fiona listened, agreed to carry out Diane’s instructions in a sleepwalker’s murmur, and floated through what she was told to do. She visited the restroom, then hit the ATM for cash and found a taxi. It drove her to the exclusive suburb of Secret Lakes, not a short hop, and she paid the driver, tipping him handsomely as Diane had suggested she do. She climbed out of the cab in front of her family’s big sprawling ranch house. It bore tasteful Christmas lights, white and subdued, nothing like the big, gaudy displays her dad had gone in for when Fiona was just a toddler. She smiled in the dark. Diane was so good, so perfect for her dad. He was learning a little restraint from her, a little good taste. No wonder his real-estate business had picked up so dramatically in the past few years, no wonder he was getting so rich. Diane must have been a huge help to him.

The Florida night was balmy, a good forty degrees warmer than the chill Northern evenings she had become used to. The air smelled good, touched with the faint familiar aromas of the midwinter flowers of a subtropical zone. Fiona went through the gate and up the front walk, trailing her suitcase along behind her. The front door was unlocked, and she stepped inside. “I’m home!”

From the den she heard exciting sounds, and she followed them, walking as though mesmerized. She paused in the doorway. Her dad sat in his big reclining chair. Riding him in a reverse-cowgirl position, Diane was slowly and enthusiastically fucking him, her trim abdomen writhing like a belly-dancer’s, her stupendous, full round breasts heaving with bawdy effort as her pretty pink cunt rode up and down the length of Fiona’s father’s surprisingly fat cock. “Darling, you’re here at last,” she said with a lazy smile, tossing her head to send a strand of her beautiful long silken hair over her shoulder. Then, to Fiona’s father, Diane added, “Oh, Charles, she’s looking so beautiful. She’s going to be such a help to you in business after she graduates. Your customers will love her. They’ll just eat her up.”

Fiona’s numb fingers found the buttons of her long coat. It opened and she shrugged it off, feeling it fall and pool around her feet. As Diane had instructed her, Fiona had undressed in the airport restroom and now was completely nude. Feeling the weirdest combination of self-loathing and joyful exaltation, she came meekly forward to carry out the remainder of her orders, wearing only her stiletto-heeled shoes, her ass rolling in the marvelous slut-strut they gave her. She reached the fucking pair and knelt worshipfully on the floor, between her father’s knees, reached out and fondled his heavy balls, and then like a good and obedient slave began to lick the clitoris of her stepmother, her superior, her mistress.

The End