College Chronicles Ep. 10

"Uhhh, Cin... What about my--"

"Don't worry! I didn't forget about you." Her tone was bright enough to cut off followup, though her words didn't answer my question.

Outside another Uber was already waiting, and in a flash we were back in central, pulling up in a rather trashy, but well-populated street. As we hopped out, Cindy smiled, and gestured with mock grandiosity. All I could do was stammer.

"Wha... Why are we... Here?"

Before us was a monstrosity of a storefront, glaring pink with a rainbow of neon signs. More offensive to the senses were the designs of those signs; an array of pulsating penises, vaginas, and assholes. All shapes and sizes cluttered the doors and windows, only breaking for mannequins, wearing all matter of sex-gear and frozen in the middle of unspeakable actions. Another sign, the brightest and most neon of them all, declared proudly: Cafe Kink.

"Don't worry, they don't serve food." She joked, but her expression was entirely serious, turning to measured displeasure, "So Sami..." She paused, and the silence loomed pregnant over my head.

"Sooo, Cindy?" I tried to lighten the mood with weak humor, but Cindy's frown didn't wrinkle, and I was getting a little scared.

"I was talking to Jaxx about your little date. What he told me doesn't exactly match up with your story. Want to guess how?" She was all business, and I crumpled like a wet paper bag.

"Ohmygod Cin I swear it wasn't-it was just- I... I'm sorry I couldn't help it...please... Please don't break up with me. Please Cin--" I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and the hand that chopped the air silenced me like a punch to the gut.

"Oh, stop it Sami. I'm not gonna break up with you. I set you up. I'm not mad... I'm just disappointed..."

She said it with an exaggerated affect, and I was frustrated enough by the cliched sentiment to speak a full sentence.

"But that's worse!"

"Exactly." A brief look of self-satisfaction, then a searching gaze, her fiery emerald eyes piercing me. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"You said I couldn't! And... He's just... It's just... I... I don't know..."

She watched me for a moment as I looked at the floor, then reached out and took my hand, giving me a little squeeze before she spoke.

"Look; you can trust me, right? So I need to be able to trust you. I don't know what I'd do, if you lied to me about something that mattered..." A true cloud, impenetrable and dark, passed between us for a moment. Then Cindy's usual sunniness returned. "But you're gonna make it up to me. Come see!"

She pulled me forward, and I couldn't decide if I was more relieved or frightened.

I definitely should have been frightened.

She lead me unerringly through the garish store. In a minute we were at a back counter tucked away in the heart of the deceptively large sex shop. Behind it stood a pair of attendants, one young and lanky with grungy blond hair, the other balding with a thick, dark mustache and bulging gut. They looked a little sleepy, and both jumped when they noticed our arrival.

Cindy marched up to counter and rattled off an order number, sending the two into a flurry of action. The older man began frantically scrabbling through a mess of papers on the desk before him while apologizing slavishly, his eyes darting back and forth between Cindy and myself, never raising to meet our gaze. His leer was predatory and conniving, but everything else about him was so un-intimidating, it was hard to be unnerved. Yet I could feel it, when his ogling crawled across my skin. Though I was just wearing one of Cindy's t-shirts and skinny jeans, it was the same look I'd felt follow me in my gym-bunny outfit, the same look men had given me on the street; hungry.

The younger of the two clerks went dashing around the counter as soon as Cindy finished reciting the number, only to attempt a stop on a dime when he realized he needed more information. It failed, and his feet flew out from underneath him cartoonishly, knocking down a carefully stacked pyramid of boxed dildos and other sex toys. The older man spun in fury and began berating him, between offering more grovelled apologies.

After they picked up the young worker, half cleaned his mess, and finally found the order form, he ran off. We stood there in awkward silence, the older clerk's eyes flitting between me and Cindy. The farcical antics had distracted me, but I was picking up where I'd stopped wondering how I would make up for my transgression. When the young man came back he seemed unable to look at Cindy directly, awkwardly bowing and averting his eyes as he handed her a colorful bag. She spun on her heel and pushed the bag into my hands in turn.

It was a costume-- my costume. I knew by the picture of Supergirl on the front. But it wasn't a Supergirl I recognized from the comics. She was more like a version from 'rule 34' illustrations. In place of her usual body fitting suit, there were only three pieces of extremely skimpy clothing: a bright red, short skirt, a strange long-sleeved spandex crop-top, and the requisite super hero cape.

The girl in the picture had shorter hair, like me, and looked ready to save the world one dick at a time. The skirt rode up her thighs and exposed a promising hint of her American-flag blue panties. The top clung to her, base and sleeves blue, with the classic S front and center of the chest. It was skin-tight; a thin, poor veil for her bra-less, pert breasts. Her nipples were hard under the fabric, poking through teasingly, begging to be tweaked.

I was speechless. The truly girly outfits I'd worn in public before were conservative compared to this. It was barely even clothing; a bathing suit would have been more comprehensive. My mouth opened and closed, searching for words, finding none. When I looked up, I realized Cindy was walking away. I was left with the awkward clerks, watching her sway away from us, until she snapped a finger over one shoulder without looking back.

"Come on!"

It kicked my body into motion, though my brain and mouth were still struggling. More? I hoped maybe this would involve a sweater, or body length trenchcoat, knowing it was unlikely.

Cindy marched on through the store, moving with purpose. I tried multiple times to voice my concerns, explain that the costume was too revealing, 'I can't go out in public like that, what if someone finds out? Isn't it dangerous?' But my whines slipped off Cindy like rain from a roof, landing on the floor as so many puddles. So eventually I stopped my objections, falling into a sullen silence.

Her first objective was to find me underwear-- completed quickly when she selected a pair of shiny looking blue boy shorts. I snorted at her selection; the panties would cover more than the skirt. But Cindy continued to ignore me.

Next she made a beeline to the shoe racks, where after a short search she selected a pair of red, knee-high boots with short heels. They were the most authentic piece of the Supergirl outfit so far, but that gave me little comfort, as my shins weren't the body part I was worried about.

With footwear accounted for, I'd assumed we were done this trip. But Cindy had another surprise in store for me.

Trailing behind her, she led me to one wall of the store covered in plastic display cases. When I realized what was in them, I opened my mouth to complain again, but Cindy was already turning to level her full frosty attention upon me.

"Shhh!" She cut me off before half a word left my mouth. "Listen! You fucked up. You promised me you wouldn't touch yourself, and you did. I didn't want to do this, but YOU made me!"

She was trying to hide it, but she was actually angry. I could see it in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her eyes flared behind each 'You' she snarled.

The frustration and impatience I had been storing dissipated like morning mist, and all I wanted to do was please her; return to the blissful comfort we had shared before she revealed my newest lie. But Cindy wasn't done her chastising,

"I know you love this shit, silly little bitch." One hand gestured at the bag I held with white knuckles like it offered support. "You whine and complain, but I know-- even if you don't. But you're not going to like this."

She spun, and after a second of craning and inspecting, pulled an item from the wall and pushed it into my hands.

I'd never held, or even seen one before, but the packaging loudly announced the device's nature. 'Good things (don't) cum in small packages cage.' It was transparent, and no longer than 2 inches, maximum.

I was frozen, holding it like a bomb at arm's length. Questions whizzed about my brain, overwhelmed in seconds with cascading emotions. When Cindy spoke, I hung off every word, desperate for a life line.

"You're a stupid slut, Sami, and that's okay. But it's not okay to forget you're mine. Not Jaxx's, MINE." I cowered before her, tone straining and intensity rising with each word.

"He'll use you, but ***I*** make you cum. You don't get that privilege."

I was a little confused by her outburst. Her anger made sense; I had lied again, after my previous severe warning, and it seemed like I had actually hurt her feelings this time. I was confused by her outburst because of its focus on Jaxx. Of course I was hers. Jaxx wasn't that interested in me, was he? A memory flashed in my mind: her possessive eyes, a fraught moment.

Anger spent, Cindy huffed at my open-mouthed silence and walked to the register. After a few seconds I followed, sheepish, watching her feet to avoid the chance of eye contact. She paid, and we waited outside in the cooler autumn air for our ride.

Halfway back to campus, I couldn't tolerate the frigid atmosphere, my emotions exploding out of me as accidental fireworks, flaring and uncontrolled.

"Cindy I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just... I just don't know what happens sometimes this is all... everything is so... I just don't... I don't want to lose you... and he's so... he just... I... everything is so different and I can't... I d--"

I was near tears, humiliated and fumbling for words that wouldn't come to tell her how I felt. Like always, she saved me.

"--You're confused!" Soft fingers caressed my cheek, and her hand pulled my face from the floor up towards her. I resisted, scared to look at her and burst into tears, but her hand was too gently insistent, my defenses too weak. When I finally met her eyes, the expression of flat frustration was gone, replaced by overwhelming sympathy, compassion like I'd never seen before.

"You're confused. But you KNOW I know best, right?" I nodded dumbly, too worried opening my mouth would prompt the flood of tears. "You PROMISED me, Sami. You promised you wouldn't touch yourself. And then you did it anyway. So there have to be consequences."

Sniffling slightly, but with most of my tears held back, I jumped to answer, latching onto the sympathy in her eyes.

"I... I know... And I... I... I'll wear it... But please, Cin, don't be mad at me? I just... I--"

I was once more fumbling for words, and Cindy stepped in again to help me.

"--Shhhh, don't worry. I'm not mad." Her arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me towards her. "All you need to do is what I tell you. I know it will be hard... But I'm worth it, right?"

My head was on her shoulder, and I watched her speak with wide eyes, hanging on every word, nodding in fervent agreement before the end of her question.

"And who knows-- I think you might have some fun before the end of the night!" I didn't exactly agree with the prediction, but I was too relieved by our reconciliation to argue.

The second half of our ride to campus was a different type of silence; quiet enjoyment of each other's company.

Dropped off in front of her sorority, Cindy ambushed me with an embrace, kissing me deeply in the middle of the street, her tongue writhing in my mouth. I was breathless as she swept me up the stairs to her room, our hands roaming, clothes half off before her door had even opened.

I served Cindy like never before, licking her pussy and asshole until her cum was running down my chin and her eyes wobbled as she watched me between her legs. I never touched my clit, eager to prove I could control myself, hoping I could earn a reprieve. When she finally pulled me up into a passionate kiss and dragged her willowy hands to my crotch, I shuddered at the first soft stroke, bursting into her hand. She promptly fed it back to me, sliding her fingers into my mouth one by one. I was used to the weak taste of my cum; I wasn't used to the sudden desire that it was replaced by Jaxx's thick, heavy batter.

The rest of the day flew by as we squeezed in a workout and a pedicure, then smoked heaping bowls of weed and watched a pair of the movies that I'd been saving for my lonely Halloween marathon. I went to sleep as small spoon, nearly forgetting my imminent punishment.

*

Halloween morning I awoke early, with a knot of fear in my stomach.

I had tried my best to simply deny the existence of the cage Cindy had purchased for me. But in her embrace, with rhythmic breath on my neck, there was nothing to offer distraction.

I had never really known what a cage was before. Certainly never seen one in person-- absolutely never considered wearing one. I couldn't understand the appeal. Questions rode bumper cars through my mind, bouncing violently off each other: Would it hurt? How long would she keep me? Would it be noticeable under the skimpy Supergirl outfit?

The last question was especially hard to consider. We were going to a club. A popular, crowded club. What if someone found me out? What could happen to me?

Cindy shifted behind me, murmuring softly in her sleep, arms tightening around me. The reminder of her presence soothed me. Cindy would be there to watch out for me, protect, save me, if needed. She might be volatile, even a little vindictive when I screwed up, but my trust in her had grown deep, roots entrenched. She had my virginity, was the only thing standing between me and Jaxx's predation. I HAD to keep trusting Cindy. That lack of options was comforting, in a strange way.

Cindy knew best.

So I snuggled up, into her cradling embrace, her hot breasts pressing against my back. I drifted off to sleep again, surrendering to fantasies of pleasure... The Supergirl costume WAS hot.

How would Jaxx look at me?

Suddenly, it was late afternoon. Cindy had waked and baked and not stopped since, so I was blazed to the point of incomprehension when she jumped to her feet and motioned me upwards.

"Time to get ready, Supergirl!" She flashed me a flirty smile. She had been teasing me all day about my expression of shock when Jaxx had picked my 'suggestion.' I'd been sore at first, but by now I was giggling at her jokes, tantalized by the prospect of the night ahead of me.

She gathered up the purchases from our excursion, and we made our way to 001, where we planned to meet Jaxx and pregame.

We found 001 empty, which was partially a relief, partially a disappointment. I was curious about his reaction to my costume. My stomach did a somersault as I considered the possibilities.

Cindy didn't leave me time to get lost in my thoughts, moving me along as soon as the bags were deposited on my bed. She urged me into the bathroom, where we started to prepare for a big night out.

The first step was to clean myself up. Cindy helped me douche, a little less hands on with each repetition as I became more confident. It was becoming a semi-regular routine, so I didn't think anything of it. Then we jumped in the shower, kissing and caressing under the warm water, though Cindy never let it progress past teasing.

Out of the shower, Cindy dried and styled my hair, reshaping my golden bob. All the additional haircare I had been doing (at Cindy's instruction) was paying dividends, my locks shiny and luxurious. It was still a little short to be authentic Supergirl, but without a cut in weeks, it was getting there. Cindy curled her own auburn hair after she was done with mine, and I sat and watched as we chatted idly. When it fell down her shoulders in cascades (just like Ivy's), we turned to the part I was most anticipating, and dreading. Costumes.

Cindy tossed me the the bag with my outfit in it, and the first thing I pulled out was the Superman blue top, trailing the long red cape. The spandex fabric was light and flowing but a struggle to don, pulling tight around my shoulders and armpits and resisting my arms through the sleeves. It was shorter than I anticipated, exposing most of my lower torso, cutting off at the top of my softly defined abs. In the mirror, it looked tighter than it felt, and even my flat chest had a certain allure to it; hard, eraser-nipples poking through the thin material.

Next I pulled out the skirt and panties. Unlike the top, these slid on easily, the boyshort panties tight and clingy, hugging my clit against my skin. The skirt was crimped, flared at the bottom, and wasn't quite as short as I thought, though it still bared nearly my whole ass if I leaned forward, and I keenly felt my exposed skin tingling in cool air. Most importantly, it covered the front of my panties, fully obscuring any hint of my clit.

It felt somehow... wrong... to desecrate the Kryptonian hope symbol on my chest. Superheroes had been my escape for years from school, bullies, and reality itself. But the first time I was dressing up as one since childish Halloweens was a lewd mockery of my passion, a not so subtle perversion of their power-fantasy appeal. I was barely a sidekick; more of a plaything, and one with an embarrassing secret identity. Underneath my skirt I felt my clit twitch at the new levels of depravity I was reaching.

I was a bit relieved to see Cindy's costume was even more revealing than mine. On top a red, long-sleeved button-down shirt, which fell baggy around her, a size too large. She wore no bra underneath, and only a single button was fastened to protect her modesty. Below she wore see-through forest-green leggings over a g-string (barely more than strips of fabric), with tall green heels I couldn't believe she could walk in.

With most of our outfits done, Cindy set to her make-up artistry. I got a rather normal club look: foundation and a little blush, heavy mascara, light-blue eye shadow, and bubblegum-pink lipstick with shiny clear gloss. For herself, Cindy went more experimental: green eyeshadow and glitter, green lipstick, and even little streaks of green and black down her cheeks and across her exposed chest. When she was done, she was her own original Poison Ivy-- devastatingly beautiful and just as dangerous.

Primping and fussing in the mirror, a duck face turned to devious grin when she noticed me watching in fascination. Her eyes flashed as she spun on me,

"Whaddya think?!"

"Sooo hot!" I couldn't contain myself, not even a little ashamed as I shouted the truth.

"I know, right? You're not so bad either, pretty lil' superslut!"

Now I blushed, flattered by her words and lustful scan of my body. I didn't even want to admit it to myself, but she was right. I made a good Supergirl.

As always, there was something more awaiting me.

When Cindy held up a butt-plug, I didn't even argue. I simply turned around and stuck my ass out, hiking my own skirt for Cindy to pull my panties to one side. As the question floated through my mind, she was already answering it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to buzz you tonight. I'll be too busy-- you will too!"

At first, the invasive pressure at my most sensitive hole made me gasp. But by then somewhat experienced, it took moments for me to relax my tense muscles, breathe deeply, then push, accepting Cindy's gift. A low moan escaped my lips as she bestowed the filled sensation that I'd come to appreciate, to say the least.