Major Dominance Ch. 03

"Damn you, you vexatious vixen, you bothersome brat, you troublesome tramp, you-"

Mori moved between us. "Guys, calm down. Leah, you, uh, really don't have to call him Master Ho. That's kind of mean. And Ho, Leah is allowed to turn down your commands."

"Those are the old rules," Ho said. "Dr. Schtaivib is making some much needed changes at this school."

Of course this idiot follows Dr. Stab. "What exactly are the rules?" I asked. "It hasn't been made clear."

"Technically, Mori is right. But if you refuse a command, then I can report you to be punished. You'll go to the dean's office, and if you refuse punishment there, you'll be expelled."

Mori added, "The punishment system is based on boundaries. If someone asks you to do something outside of your boundaries, you won't be punished very hard. But if you refuse a simple command, like 'get over here,' then you can expect something harsh.

"Sociology majors are deemed to have broad boundaries - why would they choose sociology if they didn't? Hence, they receive the harshest punishments. If I, a blue badge major, were to refuse a command and be sent to the dean's office, I would not be punished hard at all, because I have more limits.

"By outsourcing punishments, Dremeder aims to make sure punishments are proportionate to a person's limits and no one exploits another person.

"But recently things have been changing...

"Anyways, very few students bother to report people. Most students respect the boundaries of others. Economics majors are cruel, though. Ho, you are not going to be like other economics majors, are you?"

Ho chuckled. "Get over here, whore. In fact, crawl over here, unless you'd rather be punished. As Mori said, it'll be quite harsh for your major."

My body was moist. Were he not an economics major, I might have listened to him. But my voice was steady. "Someone like you can never truly dominate me."

He laughed. "Mori, read Leah's collar number."

"Ho, stop it. Leah and I are going to walk back together."

"Do it, blue badge."

Mori gulped. Blue badges indicated a dominant major, but red badges were more dominant still. She walked over to me and pulled my collar, choking me slightly. "000297491," she said reluctantly.

Ho wrote it down. "Alright Leah, go to the dean's office. I am going to schedule a punishment for you. 'Disobedience' is the reason I'll give them. If you don't go soon, your punishment will increase, or you'll be expelled."

"I can't believe you," Mori said.

I wondered if Ho was as cruel as Dr. Stab.

Economics majors sucked.

***

The dean's office was in Paradise Hall (I tried pointing out the irony to the lady behind the first-floor counter).

The office itself was on the second floor. An impressive door greeted me.

I knocked. A light switched from red to green and the door swung open, mechanically. Glad to see my tuition money is being put to good use, I thought.

The room was cartoonishly long. At the end of the room was a desk of the huge-ass type. Behind the desk sat a shadowy figure. Behind the figure were two giant windows with a horrific amount of sunlight pouring through. The sunlight was the reason for the figure's shadowiness.

As I walked into the room, my steps echoed. I felt like I was walking up to a throne after committing heresy against a kingdom.

The figure had their fingers bridged together like a chess player five steps ahead of their opponent.

"Analia Relma?" the figure said. It was a female's voice.

I flinched. "I go by Leah."

"I see," the figure said. "Have a seat, Leah."

There was no seat. I looked around confused.

"Now," the figure said.

"There's no seat," I said. I felt my legs shaking.

The figure did not respond. As I kept walking forward, the figure became clearer. She had a very thin face and long lashes. I swear I could see her bones through her dark skin.

She had no smile on her face. Then I realized how I was supposed to 'have a seat.'

I knelt on the floor in front of her, my hands cold, my body warm.

"I'm Dean Diane Dixmier."

I nodded.

"I've reviewed your profile. Normally, punishments are not bad on the first infraction. But given that you've moved in less than a week ago and have already created problems, I'm afraid stricter action is likely needed."

She told me to explain what happened.

"It started in Sociology 101 when I needed a group and-"

"Not over there. Come here." Dean Dixmier looked me over, judging.

I walked up to the desk, looking at her expectantly.

"Not over there," she repeated. "Come here."

On shaky legs, I walked around the huge desk. It felt like a five-mile run.

Dean Dixmier made me kneel in front of her, underneath the desk. Then she clasped both of her hands on my face and pulled me closer to her eyes.

She peered down into my soul. "This way if you lie, I'll know."

I trembled between her hands. I felt even more naked than normal. With great strain, I explained what had transpired between me and Ho.

"I see," Dean Dixmier said. "You disobeyed a command to protect your fragile pride against an economics major."

That's one way of putting it, I thought.

"Leah, you need to be punished for that. But I understand. I'm not enjoying the recent developments at this school, either. One of my colleagues is particularly annoying."

I knew she was talking about Dr. Stab.

"Let me explain some things, Leah. You should not let your pride betray your obedience. I can tell with you this close to me, and with your juices leaking out, and with your tits this hard, and with your body this hot, that you like being obedient, so stop holding on so tight. Just let go."

I blinked. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Why are you afraid of being who you are?"

"I'm not afraid," I said. I'm confident in my submission.

Dean Dixmier shook her head. "You just don't realize it. Do you know why sociology majors are considered less dominant?"

I murmured a 'no.'

"It is because they study such a specialized field. What sociologists learn is not easily useful to anyone because of how narrow it is. Do you know where that puts you, Leah?"

I suddenly became angry. "I'm not worthless."

"I did not say you were worthless."

"Then what's your point."

"I'm the dean of this school, but I'm also head of the math department. Math majors study a very broad field, unlike sociology majors. What we learn is so abstract that it is also not easily useful to anyone."

"So, everything is useless?"

"Not at all. Sociologists are important. Math majors are also important. But - and here's the catch - only when they can work together. That is the philosophy of Dremeder University. That is what it has always been."

Dean Dixmier looked away for a moment, relaxing her grip on me.

There was sadness in her voice. "When there is more interdisciplinary communication, everyone benefits. But recently, things have been getting worse. Dremeder has been losing the ability to create a strong bond between majors. Sometimes it even seems like..."

I strained my neck to look at the dean. She never finished her sentence.

She looked down at me. It could have been my imagination, but I thought her eyes softened. "I've changed my mind, Leah. I'm going to let you off with a warning. But think about what I said."

I emerged from under her desk and walked out, suddenly feeling very tired.

That conversation was brining up memories. Awful memories.

***

Sleep deprivation had little to do with it.

As I walked back to the dorm, I became dizzy. My vision became black at the corners.

I ignored the lobby boys, who were still as generic as ever. The stairs to the room were steeper than normal.

When I made it to the room, I dropped my bag by the door and collapsed on the bed, face down. I did not even bother getting under the blanket. I just let the cozy fabric carry me away.

I did not fall asleep though. It was strange. I was tired, but not sleepy.

"What's up with her?"

I rolled to my side, forcing my eyes open.

It was Stacy. I did not even notice her. She was on Andrea's bed, sitting cross-legged. In her lap was Rue's head.

Rue was naked and sprawled over the bed. Her pussy was red and puffy. There were tears in her eyes. Stacy held down Rue's hands firmly.

Andrea was standing next to the bed with a crop in her hand. She had a concerned look on her face. That look reminded me of someone, someone I was trying to forget.

Another wave of exhaustion hit me. I groaned. My eyelids felt heavy. When I opened them again, Andrea was at my side, stroking my hair.

"Are you alright, Leah? What took you so long to get back?" Andrea asked.

Right. I only had one class today. I should have been back before noon, before Andrea. The visit to the dean's office took a lot of time.

"Rough day," I said, my voice nearly crumbling.

Andrea moved a strand of hair off my face. "Did someone do something to you?"

"No. Well, I guess, but nothing really came of it." I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "I was just reminded of stuff."

I gave Andrea a wanting look. She understood and handed the crop to Stacy. "Can you two leave us?"

"Sure thing. Rue has a class soon," Stacy said. She glanced down at the blonde in her lap. "And you're staying naked during it. But keep the badge on, that way people will know your nakedness is a punishment."

"Yes, Mistress," Rue said.

Rue and Stacy quietly left.

Andrea came back into focus. "So, what's going on, Leah?"

I told Andrea about the large house I grew up in.

***

I was eight years old.

"Analia, stop!"

I halted at my mother's harsh voice, which startled me so much I crashed into the dining table, knocking over a glass. The shattering sound made me drop to the floor.

"God! You are so unrefined and clumsy," my mother said. "Your brother always remained sensible at your age. That's something he does so well."

I sniffled. "I'm sorry, Mother."

But Mother was more concerned about the broken glass. "Analia, you shouldn't even be doing anything until you finish your chores. I bet your room is a mess. Everywhere you go you destroy things. You're like a tornado, you know that? Your brother always did his chores. That's another thing he does so well."

My brother, Oliver, came downstairs after hearing the commotion. He saw the broken glass and grabbed a dustpan. "Can I help, Mother?" he said.

"Of course, sweetie." Oliver started cleaning the glass. Mother smiled at him. "Such a good kid."

Then she grimaced and dragged me aside. "What are you even doing running around the house, Analia? Can't you go play with friends? Your brother always gets along with others. That's another thing he does so well."

I had been pretending to chase a fairy around the house. I always stuck to myself and never had many friends. The few people I got along with lived far away, so at home I played alone. My brother was somewhat nice to me, but he was seven years older than me, so we could never play together.

I sobbed as I followed my mother to my room. "Why are you crying? You are the one who broke the glass. Don't be so dainty. You are part of a strong family. You should be strong-willed," she said. "That's another thing your brother does so well."

I forced the tears to stop. I'm not exactly sure how. I think my body subconsciously knew that if I continued to cry things would get worse, so I wiped the tears off my face and pretended to be strong-willed.

"That's my girl," Mother said. "Sometimes I think I'm too harsh on you, but it's only because I see myself in you, so I know you can do better. I was strict with your brother as well, and he turned out great. Don't worry, sweetie. You'll be just like your brother one day. And" - we entered my room - "Honey! Your room is a mess."

Mother looked around, disgusted at my unmade bed, closed curtains, and scattered toys. She particularly hated my toys, which were a mixture of dolls, art supplies, and stuffed animals. "You are just too distracted by these things. Oliver always had fun solving puzzles and stimulating his brain. He was able to sharpen his mind. That's another thing he does so well."

"I'm sorry, Mother. I-I was going to t-throw the toys out, b-but I just really like them a-and-"

"Speak properly, Analia. Words carry weight. You should always speak with precision and clarity," Mother said. "That's another thing your brother does so well."

Mother left me to clean my room. I put my toys away and made my bed. I was debating whether to open the curtains. The outside world terrified me, even when I looked at it from my house. Our house was giant, and it was perched on a hill. We owned a large private plot and could look down at the town below us. The town was a homely, cozy sort of place, but my parents considered it to be undignified, so I never went out.

"Hello, sister."

I jumped as my brother's voice interrupted my deliberation over the curtain dilemma.

"Sorry. It was not my intention to startle you," Oliver said. "I would like to inform you that I know Mother can be tough, and I understand what you may be going through." I could feel the tears welling up, but I forced them down. "But have no worry. In a few years, you will be transferred to the academy - the very same one that I am at right now - and then you will be corrected."

He gave me a warm smile. I almost cried again, but my body knew better.

"Come on," Oliver said encouragingly. "Let us open these curtains."

I sat timidly on the bed while Oliver let the sunlight in. I shut my eyes as the brightness swallowed the room.

Veneration Academy was the only school my parents considered to be dignified enough for us. We would wear uniforms and live under strict discipline. The school was for grades six through twelve, and its goal was to prepare us for college and a 'venerable life,' as my mother explained.

My parents made me apply when I was eleven. The application process involved a form to fill out, a tour of the school, and a short interview with one of the teachers.

I was so nervous during the interview that my answers were all flustered. I remember the teacher interviewing me asked, "What kind of job do you think you would like, Analia?"

I had not ever thought about what I would do for a living - I was only eleven! I should have said that I was not sure yet; that would have been an acceptable answer. Instead, I scrambled for words, trying to figure it out on the spot. "I want... I guess... well... I don't want a real job!"

I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. I meant that I wanted to do something extraordinary, something outside of the office, something meaningful. But I failed to get that across.

Veneration Academy rejected me.

My mother was so disappointed in me, but she was angrier at the school. We had a lot of money and influence. She gave the school a call, pulled some strings - I think Principal Adams owed her a favor - and got me into the school.

The whole situation made me get in a year late, since I missed the enrollment deadline. Essentially, I had to repeat the sixth grade (once in public school, and again at Veneration Academy, since they wanted every new student to start at sixth grade, even though I had already completed it).

Because of that, I was twelve when I should have been eleven, thirteen when I should have been twelve, and so on.

Being the oldest one in my classes isolated me further, and I felt stupid for my age. After all, I was being matched by students younger than me.

Everyone at that school was so pompous and confident. I didn't fit in at all.

To make matters worse, Mother got worried that I would not do well, so she made me work extra hard to try and skip a grade. She said that I needed to get 'back on track.' For a few years that seemed like her favorite phrase.

Unfortunately, I was a totally average student, which was unacceptable to my parents. I was not smart enough to skip a grade.

I remember Mother muttering to herself as she drove me home after receiving my placement test results. "Why did I think you could be like Oliver?"

Oliver, of course, skipped two grades and graduated from Loguria University - the best college in the nation - early. He had a dignified girlfriend from a dignified family and a dignified job in the dignified banking industry. I could never be like him, and Mother knew it.

I knew it, too.

The tears almost fell out, but I held them in. I had not cried since I was eight years old, and I would not start now.

At home, Mother became like Father. Father was always busy with work, so he rarely talked to us. Whenever I tried asking him for something, he would just tell me to ask Mother. But now Mother also started ignoring me, only making sure my basic needs were met. She stopped yelling at me, but only because she knew I would not amount to anything. And why should my parents worry? They had Oliver to carry on the family's legacy. What was I compared to him?

I was the family's failure.

It was only at the beginning of twelfth grade, when I was eighteen (about to turn nineteen before everyone else), that I found a friend.

Jillian was her name. She was smart, one of the smartest at our school, and she was even more dignified than Mother, it seemed. She was not just slender, but poise. When she met new people, they always felt the need to prove themselves to her. Her face was rigid and cold, her eyes sharp.

But I learned of her soft side. I was sitting at the end of the lunch table - alone as usual - when Jillian plopped right next to me, confidently.

"Hi, I'm Jillian."

Everyone knew who she was (there were only about four hundred kids across seven grade-levels, so everyone within the same grade knew each other, and people especially knew Jillian because of how dignified she was). I just nodded nervously. "I-I'm Analia."

"Analia? That's a lot of syllables." I nodded cautiously. I did not want to upset her, so I just agreed. "I'm going to call you Leah. Do you like it?" I nodded again. "Okay, Leah. Since I have a nickname for you, we are officially friends forever. What do you say?" I nodded.

She smiled at me. It felt like the first real smile I had ever received.

Then I asked her, "What should I call you?"

"You should figure that out for yourself. Take your time, though. Nicknames are special."

We got along quickly. Jillian introduced me to her friend group, but I always preferred our time alone. I think Jillian did as well. We were both unsure of our feelings, but each day we became more than just friends.

One day, Jillian asked if she could visit my home. I said I would ask my mother. After school, I drove me and Jillian to my house.

"Mother, this is my, um, friend Jillian. Is it okay if she stays over?" I asked nervously.

Mother ignored me and widened her eyes at Jillian.

"Jillian? As in, Jillian Mather?" Mother asked, smiling. Jillian nodded. "Why, of course you can stay. Your mother is so wonderful. I've heard so much about you. I'm sure you'll be a positive influence on Analia."

Jillian did not return Mother's smile.

She wanted to see my room. I was visibly flustered, and I rushed to open the curtains and make my bed. I had already thrown out my old toys years ago.

Jillian eased my shaking with a reassuring hold on my shoulders. We sat on the bed together and started chatting as we usually did. But being completely alone, we were able to share more intimate feelings. We prodded around our love for each other, until we were both sure that we did, in fact, have unwavering feelings for the other.

With each passing minute our faces got closer and closer, until we could talk to each other with just whispers.

"So, what kind of person would you fall in love with?" Jillian asked.