College Chronicles Ep. 06

When it arrived, it arrived with a rush, and her thighs squeezed tightly around my head and neck, somewhat cutting off my air. I tried to continue to service her, but she began to shudder along with louder moans and groans, and her tight grip shook me violently. Then she reached down to play with her clit, and a gush of liquid erupted from her right into my face, making me cry out in surprise along with her gasps of pleasure.

She held me there, wedged between her legs for a bit, as she slowly ceased her vibrations and her muscles loosened. Eventually she let me go completely and I slumped down to the floor, still on my knees between her legs, looking up at her and waiting for instructions. When she noticed me looking expectantly, she smiled slightly and gestured me up onto the couch with her. I hopped up at her motion and nearly stumbled in my haste to seek the pleasure of her pouty lips and the warm, comforting embrace of her arms. I curled up on the couch against Cindy's body, clinging to her, her assault on my ass a distant memory.

We cuddled for what felt like an hour but was probably only ten minutes. Through my post orgasm haze I began to feel the high again, seeping through my bones, making me one with the couch, so comfortable in Cindy's arms I nearly dozed off. But Cindy woke me and pulled me behind her to her shower. Showering together with a girl was something I had never even hoped for, so I kept my mouth shut and savored the moment, soaping Cindy's breasts and playing with them when she told me to, and letting her become thoroughly acquainted with my most private parts.

Then she got some of her own shampoo, and washed my hair for me. Her hands moved expertly around my head, and I luxuriated in the hot water as she explained how to best care for my hair, how often to wash, and that she would get me some "correct" shampoo. I didn't linger on that, because her next statement answered a question I hadn't realised I had. She said, with special emphasis, "And NEVER forget to take that pill each day!" At the time it just made sense that the pill she gave me was to do with my hair. I assumed that it would make my hair grow faster. But you know what they say about assumptions...

Despite the slight undercurrent of worry I felt from the one time she grasped my small package and tickled it, the shower with Cindy was pleasant. Intimate, comfortable; no shred of domination or coercion. I hoped Cindy was through with her cruelty now that she'd had her fun, and I could rest easy around her. I was partly right.

Once out of the shower we hadn't bothered to dress, Cindy donning a black bathrobe with white and pink floral design, and loaning me a baby-blue robe. She had ordered a pizza, and we were lounging next to each other on her couch, watching TV and finishing it when she gave me a strange look.

"Sami... I'm gonna ask you something, but I don't want you to be weird." My stomach dropped; she was ravenous, and I powerless. "I've been pretty obvious... I want to see you in a dress."

I was stunned. Me wear a dress? She had said something about this before, but it had been in the heat of a moment. Maybe a heat of several moments? I had thought she'd been in a fantasy, anyway. Or just trying to make me squirm and flinch under verbal abuse. I had never thought about her actually doing it! She continued speaking, and I realised I had been gawking, my mouth hanging slack at her suggestion.

"Oh! I knew you would be like this. I'll be more specific. I want to see what your ass looks like in a dress, maybe some lipstick. I think it will be hot. I think you'll be hot." She drew closer to me as she spoke, her voice lowering in volume but increasing in intensity. Her green eyes looked into me and I was lost in them, fixated on her face as she brought a soft hand up to caress mine. "Don't you want to look sexy for me? Don't you want to make me happy?" She pouted exaggeratedly, and I crumbled.

"I-I g-guess... what... what do you... want me to wear?"

Suddenly she was smiling and sitting up next to me, clapping her hands. Then she was off, dashing to her closet, muttering intensely to herself. She came back with a light brown piece of cloth. In her hands I could barely tell it was clothing. My own style was to buy only dark colors, and only the baggiest options. It was easy to fade into a crowd in an oversized hoodie than in form fitting clothing that would show off my slight frame. So, when I pulled the tight dress down over my head I immediately felt constricted when it clung to my shoulders. With my head through I was able to find the long, skinny sleeves, then pull the bottom of the dress down. The hem reached to a few inches beneath my waist, covering my little package, but only just. Cindy laughed at my worried pulling on the bottom of the dress, and got me a tight pair of black panties that she handed to me with a knowing wink. Pulling them up to sit high and tight on my waist, I noticed that you could see the outline through the thin material of the dress, and my penis twitched slightly.

Cindy suddenly gasped, and I looked over my shoulder in panic. What was it now? But she was just staring down at my bottom. For once it was her mouth on the floor. Then she regained control.

"Oh my goddd Sami! That dress makes your ass look so good! You've gotta see this!"

She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to her closet door, spinning me around briskly. I turned my head to look at myself in the mirror, and she pressed on my shoulders, pushing me forward slightly. I knew what she wanted and presented my ass towards my reflection.

Sami in the mirror... was attractive, even pretty. My slightly grown out pixie cut was wavy and effeminate, and the bleached blonde tips could have been done in a salon. The dress clung to my shoulders, emphasising their slight curves, and drawing the eyes down my slim torso and to my rounded hips and soft butt, defined and shaped by the skin-tight fabric of the dress. Cindy reached over and spanked me as I ogled myself, and I watched my cheek tremble and jiggle in the wake of her slap with satisfaction. I DID have a hot girl's ass, and it looked good in this dress. Even worse (better?) the dress felt... Nice. It was tight around me, but not restrictive because of the thin, flowing fabric. Instead, it was flattering—exciting. It felt... Sexy, the way the fabric shifting and slid on my smooth skin and hugged my curves. I touched my flat stomach, slid my hand down the front of my hips and back up the sides, exploring the feminine feeling the dress produced in me.

Then Cindy grabbed my hand again and pulled me over to a makeup mirror, which she sat me down in front of before muttering to herself over a mess of products and beauty tools that I couldn't even begin to understand. When she turned back to me, she had a small pencil and a tube of lipstick in her hands and set the lipstick down in front of me. Turning on a bright lamp that blinded me for a second, her hand grabbed my chin and pulled my face up sharply to give her a better view.

"Stay just like... That! Perfect! Now... make a kissy face... like this." She puckered her lips at me, and I imitated her with only a second's hesitation. Smiling happily, she leaned in and began drawing with the pencil around my lips, telling me all about the liner she was applying; what shade of lipstick she was using, why, what she would do next, and on and on. I tried my best to file and sort everything she told me, but was overwhelmed, only able to follow the broad strokes. It didn't take her long to put down the pencil and pick up the lipstick itself, beginning to apply it to me as I kept my posture.

When she moved out of the way, I was stunned. I didn't know much about makeup, but I knew there were heaps and heaps of products available that girls would layer and mix and apply in all sorts of strategies. Cindy had only used the pencil and the lipstick, but they gave my face a remarkably feminine appearance, complimented by my already slight bone structure and facial symmetry. The nude color (her words) she had applied perfectly suited the dress she had loaned me and combined with her skills at applying it made my lips more luscious and fuller than I expected.

Cindy had been silently watching my mouth gape at my reflection, and eventually she grabbed me and spun me in the chair to face her. I had trouble meeting the intensity of her gaze as she lifted my chin.

"Sami you've been so good for me. You look so hot like this, don't you think? A little slut, all dressed up... What do you say?" she looked at me expectantly, but I was stumped.

"Wha- I... I... Don't... Know?"

*Slap* The hit was hard, and unexpected, and brought tears to my eyes and a cry from my painted lips.

"Be polite, Sami! What do you say?!"

"Ahh! Thank you Cindy! Thank you! Please don't... Thank you!"

She lightly pulled at my chin, and it was the only signal I needed to seek the comfort of her embrace again, falling into her chest and her soft, gorgeous lips. As we embraced and she pried my mouth open with her powerful tongue, my cares, anxiety, fear, and embarrassment melted away into pleasure and contentment.

We spent the rest of the night together, watching TV and occasionally making out. Cindy liked smearing my lipstick, making me look "turned out" as she kept saying. But aside from that, she kept her hands to myself, and let me wipe the remains of her work from my face and change back into my normal clothes before I kissed her good night, thanked her politely, and went back to 001.

**

That first day was the start of a pattern for how I spent my time for the next few weeks. I would leave 001 early in the mornings, either not seeing Jaxx or trying desperately to avoid looking at his naked cock, which seemed to always be exposed when he slept on his bed. After getting breakfast and coffee at a bagel bar, I'd meet Natalie and give her the coffee I bought her. She was especially not a morning person, and always seemed to be running late no matter what time it was. We'd walk to classes together, get lunch, attend more classes, so each day we grew closer and more trusting.

It reminded me of Cindy, in that it was easy; I didn't have to put on a mask or hide myself. Yet at the same time it was unlike Cindy, almost opposite. Natalie was never cruel to me, but was atrocious to others, snide and passive aggressive and sometimes outright rude. She treated other men like animals, and even made frequent jokes to me about how men would be put to death en masse once women invented a way to procreate without them. I had just smiled weakly. I could put up with bad jokes and overzealous feminism to keep being with Natalie, just like I could put up with... whatever Cindy was doing to me to be with her.

Jaxx continued to harass us—mostly me—nearly every day. At first, it was just long stares from across lecture halls, sometimes while he played with other girls. He somehow always timed his entrances and exits to just when I was going through, so I was constantly tripped, or bumped into in a crowd. Occasionally I found bits of paper inside my hood after class, or felt the light impacts of rolled up paper he would throw at me in passing. Once I even fell with my face in a tray full of food at the caf, only to look up and find Jaxx, sticking his leg out, laughing at my misfortune with his attractive entourage.

If he saw Natalie and I together, he seemed challenged to be as rude as possible. He would saunter over, a smirk on his face knowing we saw him the whole way. When he reached our tables, he would do something grotesque, like put his leg up on a chair far too close to our faces or stretch and lean back while groping his cock through whatever loose athletic wear he had on. While Natalie's tongue was the sharpest I'd ever heard, she was regularly blunted by Jaxx overwhelmingly toxic masculinity. She would become visibly speechless, licking dry lips, and stumbling over halting retorts. He would say things like...

"How's it hanging, girls? And how are you, Natalie and Pussy?"

Or he would just go for shock value, and be as obscene and abusive as you could imagine.

"Those fat udders need to be wrapped on my granite fucking rod you dumb cow. Pussy boy here would love that, wouldn't you?"

And each time Natalie's quick wit failed and left her tongue-tied and on the defensive,

"Ugh you... That's not fucking funny! Fucking prick!"

"Oh my—how can you—oh my god! That's just so... Come on Sam!"...

And so on. I was used to bullying, so I didn't really care. Natalie was not, and so she fumed and raved about Jaxx after such encounters. As time went on we learned to avoid him—to try different places to eat, walk different ways to classes... But Natalie would still bring him up, and she would get a strange look on her face while she let out her frustrations.

After classes, I would split up from Natalie to meet Cindy. She always planned our evening activities, and she was a varied planner. The second day of classes, she made good on her promise and took me to an off-campus, private gym. It was on the second story of an old, expensive looking brick building, and there were two separate code protected rooms before you reached the clean, futuristic inside. The other attendees of the gym were almost exclusively young, and certainly exclusively attractive, every one built in different ways but confident and intimidating to me. Cindy purchased me 'gym clothes'; pairs of skin-tight, dark biker shorts, through which you could see the lines of the panties I wore. These came with matching tight shirts that left extraordinarily little of my slight, un-muscled upper torso to the imagination. Walking through the gym, I couldn't help but compare myself to the prominent muscles and noticeable crotch bulges other men sported as they worked out. The small bump in front of my shorts looked more like the camel toe that some women had than evidence of any manhood.

I was used to going to the gym; it had been daily routine when I was in high school, as part of training for the swim team. But Cindy had a different kind of fitness in mind, and I had to come around fast. Instead of my usual power (power is relative, at least in relation to me) lifting, shoulder-centric workout, Cindy made me follow her workouts. This involved a lot of more minor exercises than I was used to. Instead of bench-lifting, we did a lot of barbell work, kneeling over benches and lifting small barbells, or doing push ups and sit-ups using single weights. We would do some squatting, but it was never for pure weight, more for working out (as Cindy put it) "our booties." All the stretches and lifts Cindy showed me seemed to involve almost gratuitous levels of bending and exposing ourselves, and I often caught men sneaking peeks or staring openly at Cindy as we sweated it out. But Cindy didn't seem to mind, and other girls I saw had similar workouts, so I took the easiest path and simply did as Cindy told me, barely able to keep up with her as we targeted muscle groups I hadn't known existed before.

When we didn't work out, Cindy occupied our evenings in other ways. Sometimes we went on dates to restaurants or bars around campus or the city. Cindy would dress up in luxurious, gorgeous outfits, and had begun buying me more trendy clothing—brand name skinny jeans, tight pull-overs and vests that matched. I didn't mind the attention and wardrobe makeover she was giving me, but occasionally, I did wonder about the cost of these gifts—for her, and for me. But those concerns went out of my mind in a flash when she would greet me before our dates, a stunning sight in whatever dress or skirt she was wearing. I became so used to seeing looks of lust, greed, and disbelief from the people watching us together that I ceased paying attention, wholly focused on Cindy. She would always pay for our date nights too, telling me to wait for her outside while she took care of the bill and tip. The first time it happened, I was embarrassed when the waiter handed me the check and stood expectantly waiting while I looked to Cindy; the price was much too high for me to pay for! When she took the bill from me and spoke confidently to the confused waiter I blushed and wilted in my seat, feeling emasculated, but relieved at simply handing the problem over to her. It was easier the next time, as I looked to Cindy's merrily flashing green eyes for help when another waiter made the same mistake. And the next time it was even easier, and so on, until it became ritual that I would excuse myself as the check came, give Cindy a kiss on the cheek, and collect our coats to wait outside.

Other nights we would stay in at 001, or more typically Cindy's room at the sorority house. This arrangement was fine for me, as there was less chance of seeing Jaxx at hers, and though her housemates intimidated me, they wouldn't deign to notice me, much less torment me as Jaxx did. Cindy went through pot like a demon, and I became much more comfortable with smoking it, even to the point where I could manage her bowl for myself. I still preferred when Cindy blew it into my mouth, or "shotgunned" it to me. Giving her control just felt right. Sometimes we drank wine too, but mostly Cindy stuck to bringing copious amounts of weed, and I never complained, as I certainly wasn't contributing anything. We would watch TV or play games while we smoked and talked. Cindy was fairly good Mario kart, and we had a heated rivalry going.

Cindy was also (perhaps obviously, given her wealth and beauty) a social influencer. She had hundreds of thousands of followers across multiple sites, and regularly endorsed and received samples from makeup lines, lifestyle brands, clothing companies, tech start-ups, lingerie lines and more. When Cindy found about my computer skills, she immediately drafted me as her "unofficial official media manager." I would often be tasked with taking innumerable pictures on her smart phone of her posed in front of some 'insta-able' sight/storefront or getting perfect angle photos to show off whatever new swag she was recommending to her followers. She even had me editing her videos together; it was a bit of a hassle doing so much work for her brand, but she always seemed so overjoyed by my work and showered me with compliments, so I never brought up how much time it took. Besides, she had told me I was never to say no to her, so I gritted my teeth and bared the work.

Something else that helped me get over that work was how often Cindy was having sex with me. Before I met Cindy I'd a been virgin, yes, but that wasn't half of it. I'd never been kissed before, never even gone on a real date. Who can blame me for falling head over heels for the gorgeous redhead who wanted to screw my brains out every night? She didn't bring out or talk about her cock again; it was all normal heterosexual sex. Well, maybe not normal... She remained extremely rough, regularly administering spankings that left my ass sore the next day. She also continued slapping me senseless when she fucked me, calling me names, choking me, spitting on me, and in general degrading and humiliating me. And she continued to fuck me, not the other way around. She would use me, forcing me onto my back and riding my wimpy little penis roughly ignoring my whined complaints, or grinding and bucking against my face as I clung on to her muscled ass for dear life.

More and more frequently, she made me service her, pushing me to my knees on the floor in front of her and worshipping her perfect vagina for what felt like hours at a time. But I didn't mind—in fact, I came to enjoy it. Her strong but soft hands would feel so reassuring gripping the back of my head, and she would issue instructions in a kind but firm tone that made me want to meet her every demand. Best of all were the sounds she would make as I licked and sucked at her. The soft grunts and groans as I began and I could feel her gaze burning down at me from above. The coos and soft sighs as I began to work into it, and the sweet taste of her precum dribbling down my chin. Finally, the gasps and shivers that accompanied an orgasm, and the compression of her powerful thighs around my head, trapping me against her pulsing, sometimes squirting pussy. I was at home buried between her legs, submitting to her superiority with my body.