Caitlin's Progress Pt. 02

Walking away, Caitlin felt the cooler air more acutely; who would have thought that her skimpy panties had afforded much in the way of protection; but without them, she felt curiously vulnerable.

It was, she reflected, ironic that she had missed the E&D (Equality & Diversity) Induction talk in favour of Professor Foster's own "take" on it. Equality was something Caitlin struggled with. If it meant treating others decently, then it was common sense, and if it meant treating people who had no talents as though they did, it was crap. Diversity, similarly, for Caitlin was binary: if you were different, well we all fucking were, what was the problem? It was like the uni profs wanted to flatten out life; it was like a diet of decaff coffee and alcohol-free wine - what was the fucking point!

Thus Caitlin's thoughts ran as she walked to the library to get some work done. Walking up the rather steep stairs (surely, they contravened some health & safety rule, she thought) she was conscious of what anyone behind her might see. She felt equally self-conscious as she sat and got some reading done.

The work was not demanding, except on her temper. She wanted to explore the reach of the imagination, and they seemed to be feeding her a smorgasbord of "diverse" authors. She had asked her tutor about Milton's "Paradise Lost", which she had come across over the summer after reading a review of a new book about Milton, knowing nothing about him. She had been enthralled by the epic poem. Her tutor had blown her off: "Pale, male and stale, we are more interested in contemporary diversity." So much for the life of the fucking mind, Caitlin had thought. Persevering, she asked about where she could find out more about Puritanism. only to be told that "it isn't on the syllabus", as though that was why she was at uni.

She ignored lunch. The refectory would be full of people talking about things that mattered to them. Some guy would try to chat her up. Some other girls would talk to her about Taylor Swift; who the fuck cared? Caitlin felt the weight of the banality of it all.

By late afternoon she had finished writing the three reports which were supposed to occupy the week. She could have made them interesting by querying the premisses of the questions, but she got the idea that what her profs wanted was the regurgitation of the crap they fed her, so she made sure to use every buzzword, and to give proper weight to the anti-patriarchal, radical, transgender feminist line, with due deference to diversity and equality. As expected, she got As for the lot of it; no wonder she was bored. She was curious, she wanted to know; instead she was being told what it was right to think.

Caitlin looked again at Professor Foster's card. She had three hours. What would be appropriate?

Back in her room, and thus 'safe' from prying eyes, Caitlin went to her bathroom to examine herself. She was a trifle embarrassed to notice there was a stain on the back of her skirt. How long had that been there? Who had seen it? What must they have thought? The thoughts along made her ache. Using her make up mirror, she looked at her cunt, (yes, it was a cunt, she thought) and saw how swollen her lips were - and how they glistened; there was even wetness on the tops of her thighs. She never remembered being that wet there - ever.

This would not do, not at all. So, she pulled herself together. She had a shower, and managed, by a huge effort of will not to touch herself. She wanted to. She was not even sure why she didn't; she just didn't.

Drying herself with care, she looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she thought, of course Helen, the Professor, wanted some it, who didn't? Reflecting, she decided not to bother with a bra either, her tits were firm enough not to need one, and the dark blue, tiered mini dress she was going to wear had a V-neck which would attract the attention without being slutty. It had a loose, swing cut which allowed the skirt to twirl, but which would not immediately make anyone suspect there was nothing underneath.

Fixing her best silver nose-stud and a discreet pair of stud earrings, she did her hair and a touch of make-up. 'Not at all bad," she thought, and the Imogen, chunky lace-up over-ankle boots, with a silver charm with her initial, 'C', on the heel. 'Classy', she thought.

Caitlin attracted attention as she waited for the cab. It took fifteen minutes to get to the address, just off the main drag - "the Mylk Club" - a discreet sign marking the entrance. Flashing her card at the cab driver, along with a smile, she got out - and walked to the door.

"So, you got another one?"

Helen's partner, Shelley, was fifteen years younger than herself. She had been a graduate student who had graduated to her bed. Five foot nine, blonde and blue-eyed, Shelley was a "looker" and knew it. She and Helen still enjoyed their unorthodox sex life, but the more unorthodox it was, the better it pleased them both. She was a hot shot lawyer, specialising in tax fraud, which was useful when it came to making the club they owned profitable.

"You'd like her, redhead, poised, but in need of adventure."

"I'll watch the search on CCTV - with you. The usual routine?"

Helen smiled at her partner.

"My turn this time I think?"

Shelley licked her lips.

"We shall see. I hope she is as delicious as you say."

Shelley was ready when Caitlin rang the bell.

Caitlin did not like to admit it, even, or was that especially, to herself, that she was nervous. So much so that before she left, she had gone back to her room. But she was there now, and she must see it through.

The door was answered by a pretty woman wearing not very much. The black push up bra emphasised her generous breasts, and her black G-string highlighted her long legs, set off by a pair of high heels.

"Yes, Miss? You have a card?"

Caitlin flashed the card (and reflected as she did so that it might not be the only thing she flashed that night), and the young woman smiled:

"Please come with me, Miss Caitlin, you are expected."

Caitlin was shown to a room.

"I am Jane, by the way, Miss."

"Nice to meet you Jane," Caitlin answered honestly. "Is that your work uniform?"

"Yes, Miss, all those of us who have passed the programme wear them. Is this your first time here, Miss?"

"It is."

At that point the door opened, and Shelley came in. She looked coolly at Caitlin, appraising her.

Caitlin could feel herself the object of the older woman's gaze. She looked back, straight into the woman's eyes. She liked what she saw, blonde, pretty (bit too much make up for her taste) and a good figure; the long dress with split on the left which emphasised her toned legs was, she thought, a good choice with those red heels.

"Did you do as you were instructed?"

"I did."

"Exactly as?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

In for a penny, in for a pound, Caitlin thought, and she lifted the hem of her dress to show she was wearing no panties.

"Slip the top down."

Caitlin did so, revealing the black lace bra she had added when she went back.

"Good. If you had left the bra off that would have been a demerit!"

Caitlin mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Her instinct had been right then! Do as she was told, no more, no less.

"What do you think, Jane?"

"She has a nice ass, Miss Shelley."

"Kiss it, slut!"

As Caitlin stood there, her bra and breasts in full view, holding up her skirt, she felt Jane's breath, and then her lips on her ass.

"Bend over the table and spread your legs," Shelley ordered Caitlin.

Caitlin obliged.

Jane's lips on her cheeks, and now her tongue licking down her ass-crack made her shiver with pleasure.

"Check her, slut Jane!"

Caitlin felt Jane's hands part her ass cheeks, and as her tongue rimmed her asshole she gasped. No one had touched her there before.

"She is clean, Miss!"

"Glad to hear it! Right Jane slut, you have had your fun. You should pull your dress up to cover those tits, and come with me."

As suddenly as it had started, Jane's ministrations stopped. Caitlin was conscious of a wetness between her legs. She struggled to regain control. She pulled her dress up and followed Shelley.

"Helen will be here soon, in the meantime here is a note from her."

With that, Shelley turned on her elegant heel and was gone.

Jane showed Caitlin to a table. As they walked to it, Caitlin became conscious of a number of things: the cooler air on her bare backside; a stickiness between her thighs; Jane's cute ass; and the eyes of the other women on her. Then it struck her, with the exception of the other waitresses, the women there were older than she was, some very much older.

"Your seat, Miss, and if I might say so, your ass is delicious."

With that, Jane was gone.

Caitlin opened the note.

"You will entertain my guest. If you do not wish to, you may go. If you fail to, you will go. If you succeed you can stay. You will do as you are told. if you do not want to, leave now. H"

And that was all she wrote.

As Jane came back with a tray, she brought with her an older woman. Caitlin's first impression was that she was too fat for that leather bustier and the leather pants she was wearing; her extremely large breasts threatened to spill over the top. She had short, cropper grey hair and two earrings in each ear. Age? Caitlin was unsure, but older than her mom, for sure.

"Miss, this is Miss Robbi, and Miss Shelley sent this wine on the house."

Robbi sat, smiling at Caitlin.

"Well you are a pretty young thing. Chardonnay?"

"Thank you, and please," Caitlin replied.

She needed time to get her head around the note, but was not going to be given it.

"Been with an older woman before?"

"No,"

Robbi looked at her.

"That will be 'yes, Miss' to you, young one."

Caitlin felt as though she had been hit in the stomach. Did this butch dyke really expect her to call her 'Miss'? Too much. For a moment she thought of going, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach stopped her.

"Yes Miss."

"Good girl!"

At those words, patronising and offensive in any other context, Caitlin felt herself tingle.

"Tell me about you."

Caitlin told Robbi what she thought was relevant. As they talked, she felt the other woman's foot part her legs and begin to run up her calf and then to her knee.

"You have nice legs, Caitlin."

"Thank you, Miss.,"

"I see your eyes glued to my tits. If you are interested, 40EE. Are you shaved?"

The statement, then the question, threw Caitlin off what little balance she had.

"Yes, Miss."

"Good, I Iike my girls shaved. I am not."

Again, Caitlin shivered. In what sense was she this woman's 'girl'?

Robbi's foot had reached inside Caitlin's dress now and was sliding along her thigh.

Caitlin felt aroused, but nervous. As she looked around, she saw that other tables also had the same mix now, an older woman with a younger one.

"I am ready now, Caitlin. Come with me."

'Ready for what?' Caitlin wondered, having a horrible idea of what she might mean. Despite herself, she could not help admiring the poise of the older woman. The way she did not give a fuck, as though she was proud of her excess flesh; she carried herself like a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted. Caitlin felt something shift in her.

Jane opened the door to a private room.

Once inside Robbi looked at Caitlin - never had the latter felt so like prey.

"Strip, you can keep your boots on."

Caitlin felt herself blush as she complied, her almost naked body swiftly revealed to the older woman. She unhooked her bra, letting her firm breasts stand proud and free.

Robbi walked toward her and cupped them, before kissing her nipples.

Lie on the floor, now!"

Caitlin complied.

She watched, fascinated, as Robbi pulled her pants down and off, revealing her full ass and bushy pussy. She stood over Caitlin and slowly lowered herself onto her face.

The older woman's ass cheeks smothered her, and she felt heavy to Caitlin as she adjusted herself, giving the younger woman as taste of her asshole before sliding her wet, furry pussy across her face. Caitlin gasped as she felt Robbi's hands on her breasts, pulling her nipples as she rode her face.

Robbi's thick thighs rather muffled any other sounds, but as she rode hard, Caitlin used her tongue as best she could.

"Yes, oh yes you little cunt, lick me, lick me!"

Clenching Caitlin's head between her thighs, Robbi rode her hard. Caitlin felt her face rubbed by the fur, and was half-suffocated, but she gripped her hips and licked. The older woman's pussy tasted tangy and salty, and Caitlin was conscious of other scents as Robbi pressed hard into her face.

Her nipples ached, seemed to want to burst, as Robbi pulled and played with them. Then some air, but only because she had leaned forward to spank Caitlin's pussy. The latter moaned into Robbi's as she sat back and pressed down, rubbing herself faster and more furiously on the younger woman's face as though she was her sex doll. Then she came, hard.

Caitlin felt the spasm, then felt and tasted the juices which flowed onto her face. Robbi gripped her, rocking to and fro until she felt able to rise.

She looked down at Caitlin.

"We will have more time soon, love, but I am pleased to say you have passed. You can dress; don't clean your face."

Caitlin felt woozy, a little stunned at what had happened. Without so much as a by your leave, this older woman had orgasmed using her, and in the process she, herself had passed some sort of test. She rose, conscious of Robbi's eyes feasting on her toned body.

"You're a doll, you will do well, now go and see Helen!"

Feeling herself dismissed, Caitlin went back into the main room, feeling that everyone could see her red face, wet with pussy cream. She knew her hair was a mess - her pussy too if it came to that. Helen was already sitting at the table.

"How was that? Wine?"

"Thank you, Miss,", she said, sitting, "different."

"I am told you did well. It's baptism by cunt cream. Those who can take it, I will take the trouble to work with, but I will not waste time on those who want to play. Tell me more."

"Initially I was, well, disgusted. Robbi was much older, fatter, and I could not see any attraction. I am younger, fitter, desirable, why waste me on her?"

"That's honest. I'd have known if you had lied, so well done. Keep going? And?"

"And, Miss, I came to see that her confidence and sense of who she was held an attraction."

"And being used like that?"

"It was use. I felt objectified and humiliated - yes, used."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Objectified, humiliated - and aroused."

"Good girl. You are a tool for Robbi to get herself off on, no more. Your face looks a mess, and it is clear to anyone looking what you have been used for. What do you think of the waitress outfits?"

Caitlin was off balance again. Talking about her experience she had begun to feel a sense of being in a comfort zone; now she was yanked from it.

"Slutty."

"You will wear one soon. Will that mean you are a slut?"

Caitlin felt herself blush.

"Don't think, answer."

"Yes, Miss, it will mean I am a slut."

"This is the beginning of a journey, a learning experience, Caitlin, if you follow though no one can say where it will end; it may never end."

"It makes me feel so alive, Miss."

"Is your cunt aching, slut?"

Again that comment to push her off balance - and again it worked.

"It is, Mistress."

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

Such a personal question, and yet designed to further push Caitlin out of her comfort zone.

" Three days ago."

"How often do you masturbate?"

Caitlin felt herself blush.

"At least three times a week."

"That is not much for a girl your age. When was the last time you were fucked?'

"I have never been fucked," she admitted, feeling her face flush.

"Why? You are attractive enough?"

"I didn't want any of those who wanted me."

"Are you a lesbian. Have you fucked other girls?"

"No, Miss."

"Why not?"

"I have not felt like it, Miss."

"So when I fuck you, I will be the first?"

"Yes Miss."

"You know, Caitlin, you interest me. Come with me downstairs."

Helen led Caitlin downstairs.

The room was not well lit, but Caitlin could see, with a shock, naked women wearing collars, being led on leads by other women; some were on all fours. The air was thick with the scent of wet pussy. She saw one woman rubbing herself on the boot of another, and another lying on a table with food set out on her as though she was a serving board.

Again there was that look of the predator in the eyes of some of those taking her in; a greedy, hungry look. "Fresh meat", came into her mind.

Helen sat at a table.

"Caitlin, kneel in front of me."

If someone had told Caitlin a week ago, she would be kneeling in public before one of her professors, she would have laughed them to scorn; now there she was, doing it.

Helen slipped off her shoes, her bare feet with their pink nails fully on view.

"Suck my toes."

Caitlin was stunned. Nonetheless, she bent, lifted the left foot, and began to suck the big toe. Damn it, she thought, if she was doing this, she was doing it well. She sucked each toe carefully. Helen's feet had clearly been pedicured, her skin was soft and supple. As she sucked, Caitlin felt herself ache. She caught, as she looked up, a glimpse of Helen, who had her hand up her skirt playing with her pussy. She was hardly alone in that.

Caitlin wanted that, but did nothing, concentrating instead on each of the toes, before licking Helen's soles. As she did the left foot, it jerked, Helen was orgasming.

"Good girl. Clean me up."

She lifted her skirt to allow Caitlin to lick her hairless pussy.

When Helen judged that the younger woman had done enough, she stopped her.

"Did you like that?"

"Yes, Miss," replied a wet-faced and somewhat breathless Caitlin.

"Good, now come with me to see what else happens here."