Major Dominance Ch. 04

"That's okay," she said, lifting me back up. Her legs were glistening. "Now we're even for me leaving you hanging the other day."

***

I was at the campus restaurant, Tusl's Tongue, again.

After Rue and I had gotten back to the room, we waited for Stacy who undid the padlock, allowing Rue and me to be separate once again. She and Rue left, and Andrea decided she had enough of dining hall food, so she uncuffed me and dragged me to Tusl's.

We were sitting on the same side of the table. Andrea was sitting on the outside of the booth since she was left-handed (and she wanted us to sit on the scenic side). I was watching a candle flicker.

"I'm starving," Andrea said. She had been in a particularly good mood since the fire alarm went off. "I think I'll go with the steak." I opened the menu. Andrea was looking over my shoulder. "What are you thinking?"

I passed over some aureate menu items. "Are you going to pay for me again?"

"Yeah." I knew Andrea was a bit stingy with money, so I figured I'd go with something cheap. As if reading my mind she added, "Don't worry though. Money isn't an issue for me."

This was coming from the girl who checked out 'to go' boxes that she could stuff two meals inside of so that she could save a meal swipe with each trip to the dining hall. A scheme which I was totally on board with, but still. I did not think she was someone who liked to spend money.

"How was your time with Rue?" she asked suddenly.

I blushed involuntarily. "I don't know. How was your time with Stacy?"

Now she blushed and then cleared her throat. "Don't change the subject."

"It was... nice." The waiter came to take our orders. I requested a salad.

"I can tell. It seems like you two reconciled."

Reconcile? It was not like there was some huge rift between Rue and me, was there? Maybe. "Yeah, I guess we did."

She patted my head. Then grimaced. "Gh..."

There it was again. She had done this the day before, made this incomprehensible sound, like someone had just been stabbed.

"Sorry. Good job. That's what I meant to say."

I eyed her. "Wasn't much of a job, really. You and Stacy basically forced us together."

"Still. Just being together doesn't mean you'll get along. I'm proud of you." She patted my head again.

Her affection suffused through my skin. "You saw that I was struggling, didn't you?" I asked. "That's why you encouraged Rue to stay."

Andrea said nothing. Neither did I. The waiter brought our food. We ate in silence.

"I want to try something," Andrea said once we finished eating. "Lay down."

I promptly rested my head in her lap, looking up at her. "You know," I said. "You can just tell me to lay down. You don't have to preface it with 'I want to try something.'"

"In that case." Andrea ran a hand through my hair. "Close your eyes."

My eyes were shut for a while before anything happened. Andrea put a hand over my closed eyelids to guarantee my blindness. I was left in the darkness, the sound of soft piano music and distant conversations around me. Then I heard Andrea say, "We'll take the check."

The waiter must have been near us, watching my naked body. And watching Andrea, whose voice was surprisingly calm, given that she was normally quite shy in public. I felt my pussy dampen and squirmed trying to get my exposed skin to touch something. To get my bearings.

"I did not tell you to move," Andrea said sternly. "Bad girl." I forced my limbs to relax against the will of my throbbing pussy. "Sorry, Mistress." I felt frigid fingers on my lips and opened my mouth to let them in. The fingers held my tongue in place and I was beginning to feel very used. It was the perfect feeling.

Andrea's other hand was still over my eyes. Everything was still dark. The fingers left my mouth and trailed down my body. Down past my chest and stomach. Around the front of my waist just away from my pussy. It took all my strength not to shift so that her fingers were on my clit. Eventually, the hand made it of their own volition, circling it once firmly. I nearly came on the spot. Then the hand pulled away. I had to bite my lip to eschew my agony.

I heard the clinking of ice. Seconds later the ice was on my skin, near my belly. My body heat melted it slightly allowing it to glide across my smooth skin. The ice cube went up my body, to my chest where it rested on one of my tits. This time I could not completely repress a muffled a scream.

If Andrea had an issue with me making sound, she did not say so. I did hear her chuckle, though. She let the ice cube melt fully on my body. Then her hand went back to my pussy. Her fingers easily slid inside me. Prodding slowly, they forced the oddest squeaks out of me. And then they pulled away again.

I was about to scream completely from the frustration, which would have brought attention from several surrounding tables. Andrea foresaw this and put her hand, covered in my fluids, over my mouth. Once again, my scream was muffled.

When I calmed down enough for Andrea, she put her fingers in my mouth once more, making sure I cleaned them thoroughly. Then the fingers pulled away another time. By this point, I was hyperventilating.

My skin burned. "Oh!" Nothing could suppress that scream. It was louder than the fire alarm. I was sure that other tables were watching. I was sure that Andrea would be annoyed with me for attracting attention. "S-sorry, Mistress. I'll try to not scream."

My skin burned again, and I screamed again. Even louder this time. Breathing heavy. "Scream all you want," Andrea said. "Just keep still so I don't miss."

My skin burned a third time and I screamed once more. It hit me. Candle wax. Andrea was dropping hot candle wax on my skin. Drop. And I screamed as my chest burned. Drop. And I screamed as my belly burned. With each drop, my screams got quieter as I grew used to the pain, until they were little more than loud grunts. Then they became moans.

My whole front must have been dotted with wax when Andrea finished. I heard the clinking of ice once again and tensed in anticipation. As I ice cube roamed over my body I became physically confused. My body did not know if it was cold or hot, pained or soothed. All I knew was that I desperately needed to cum.

"Oh, please," I croaked. Andrea obliged, massaging my clit and thrusting her fingers inside me.

"Cum for me." By an indescribably large margin the scream of my climax was the loudest.

When I finally recovered, I noticed that the conversation around us had stopped, and had been stopped for quite a while. As I allowed myself to sit up, the now solid wax feeling strange against my skin, I realized every single person was watching us. I looked at Andrea who was smiling triumphantly.

"I did it," she said. Gradually, the others in the restaurant returned to their food. She leaned back in relief. "I did it."

Andrea had taken another giant step.

***

Dean Dixmier claimed that the lesson I had to learn was something I could only teach myself. Therefore, no punishment would properly fix my disobedience and was thus redundant. She explained this while I was once again underneath her desk. On my knees.

"So just sit there for what would be the duration of your punishment and then I'll let you go," Dean Dixmier said.

This time she had a teacup from which she was drinking... well I assumed tea, but the dean said it was a black coffee. Who drinks coffee from a teacup? Apparently, the dean. She was a lot like her beverage. Classy and refined on the outside, but strong (and addictive) on the inside. This personality is likely what enabled her to become the dean in the first place. And I had come to know her personality fairly well in my many visits to her.

Every other day in Sociology 101 Ho Ping would tell me to suck his cock. And each time I would refuse, earning me a trip to the dean's office to be punished. Ho and Mori assumed I was actually receiving a punishment, like a whipping or something. But I was not.

Ho always sent me to be punished as soon as I disobeyed his commands. Every day, without failure. Mori did her best to mediate the conflict between me and him. She was failing. Her best attempts usually consisted of some half-baked joke that she would have to explain the meaning of.

Ho and I would temporarily unify in our hatred of Mori's 'humor' and then hate each other even more. As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy who is also my enemy makes me hate my enemy for being my friend.

With each visit to Dean Dixmier's office I had come to learn more about the school. Its founding, how it changed after The Gates were sealed centuries ago, and its competition with Loguria University (the dean explained that the two universities used to be comparable in prestige back in the day). There was quite a history to this world, I realized.

I also learned more about the power structure among Dremeder's faculty. Each major had a head (Dr. Stab was the economics head and Dean Dixmier was the math head) and some amount of power. Every few years there was a vote to decide which of these heads was the dean. The amount of voting power for each head was based on a number of factors, including number of students in the major, the rigor of the major, and the major's value to the university, which was determined algorithmically by a group of student interns who were trusted to be impartial because... well it was not like they were going to get paid either way so they might as well do the job right and try and get some 'work experience' for that good ol' resume. Plus, the group of student interns consisted of at least one student from every major, so there was an internal balance.

Dean Dixmier explained, "A major's voting power is partly based on alumni income, which gives STEM majors an advantage. But it is also based on a dignity factor, which can be seen as a moral contribution to larger society. This moral contribution is measured by the fame that the alumni bring to the university through philosophy, academic research, invention, or art. This is why English majors are given a red badge."

"English majors have a red badge?" I asked with incredulity in my voice. A red badge meant they were in the 'very dominant' category along with mathematicians and economists. But they weren't even STEM.

"Yes, due to their artistic and philosophical contribution. Ironically, philosophy majors only have a green badge, putting them in the 'submissive' category. There are other factors as well, but you don't need to worry about them. You may be surprised about the standings, but they are all determined algorithmically. Therefore, they are just."

"I guess so." I was wondering what the other factors were. The ones that the dean was keeping from me.

"Incidentally, the math department benefits from both the income and dignity factors since we are at the forefront of knowledge but can also work fairly decent jobs in industry."

The stats that determined a major's voting power also determined its position on the dominance hierarchy. That is, which category of dominance it belonged to. Sociology was in the 'very submissive' category, and consequently had the least number of rights.

The categories that the majors were put in was determined algorithmically, but the exact disparities between those categories were determined by the dean. For now, the dean was Diane Dixmier. And I was sitting under her desk.

Any major's head could propose a bill to amend university policy (for instance, Dr. Stab frequently proposed bills regarding dining hall policy), but the dean had the ultimate veto power.

The dean was far from omnipotent, though. If every major's head voted for themselves to be the dean, then Dean Dixmier would be the dean since math had the highest voting power. But economics was not far off in terms of voting power, so theoretically some departments could band together to replace Dean Dixmier if they felt that she was not doing a good job. As such, Dean Dixmier still had to take the input of other majors. Especially ones with decent voting power. And therefore, the dean's power was checked in part by Dr. Stab.

"Currently," Dean Dixmier went on, "the university is divided into two groups: those who want the university to stay true to its core values of interdisciplinary communication for the pursuit of truth - these people support me - and those who want to see their own major rise to the top of the dominance hierarchy and others to be subject to their whim - these people support Dr. Stab."

The dean explained that to preserve the university's values, it was of upmost importance that she maintained the goodwill of other majors and did not abuse her veto power.

I listened patiently under her desk as Dean Dixmier explained the university bureaucracy. Her hands occasionally brushed my chest and her toes sometimes got deep inside my thighs. I could not help but feel like the dean was starting to like me. It made sense: she never punished me even though I was in her office frequently and she was never in a hurry to make me leave, even if she never betrayed any excitement upon seeing me. But most of all it was her little movements and commands that convinced me that she was growing attached. She always made me get close to her and seemed unable to stay too far away from me. Her voice often lingered on my name and her eyes seemed unable to get enough of my skin. I never questioned it, because if her attachment was stopping me from getting punished, then I had no desire to roil our current relationship.

Being the dean's pet had its perks. Like not having to worry about being punished for disobeying Ho. Like understanding university policies better than most. Like having a small influence over the most powerful person at Dremeder University.

***

In Sociology 101, Professor Krin lectured about scale. "For your next assignment you all will pick a structure to write an essay on. You will analyze it from a macro and micro scale, considering both how that structure fits with other structures and how the people related to that structure interact with each other on the individual level."

The class was silent, knowing that Professor Krin had more to say. The professor took a few strides looking quite satisfied with our discomfort. Then he said, "This essay will be done in groups."

Every student groaned.

Professor Krin laughed. Actually laughed. "You guys are free to leave once you form your groups. The essays are due next class."

I looked around and, sure enough, those who sat next to me formed their own groups. Ho and Mori waddled over to my desk. I was stuck with them. Again.

"He really likes his group projects!" Mori said.

Ho was distraught. "Another one!" he exclaimed. "Another group project. And it's a group essay for crying out loud."

"How exciting," Mori responded. "We get to work together again. Isn't it great?"

I could not tell if Mori was being sarcastic or not. It was hard to tell what was really going on in her mind.

Ho was ranting. "It's terrible. Terrible, I say, terrible. I can't believe it. Another one. I'm speechless. I'm actually speechless, I am."

"Clearly, you aren't actually speechless," I chided.

"Oh great. Just perfect. I have to work with you again. You fly. You shoe. You truculent and troublesome and tasteless and - the worst part is that I can't even send you to the dean's office for punishment. It's terrible, I say, terrible."

(Ho could not send me to the dean's office because the assignment was due next class, and this was the most convenient time to work on it since the three of us were together.)

"One might even say that it's terribly great!" Mori said. Was that something she considered a joke? "Come on you guys. Look on the bright side. You know what they say."

Ho and I glared at her. "What do they say," I asked.

"Well. I guess you don't know what they say." She started cackling.

"Man, your laugh is really ugly. Like vultures rotting. That's your voice."

Mori got quiet after that. "Don't listen to him. He's an idiot," I said. Mori gave a toothy grin. Her smile was just as ugly as her laugh. "He's right, but don't listen to him. He's an idiot."

"You already said that genius," Ho said.

Mori looked away. Mission 'Get Mori to stop smiling' accomplished. Ho and I nodded at each other. Then we simultaneously grimaced. "You brute," I said.

"You scum," he retorted. "You probably live in the most disgusting side of the school's sewers."

"Sewers don't even have sides," I said. Did they? "I think."

We turned away. Now that Ho and I were mad at each other as usual, it was Mori's turn to break the tension with some dumb joke.

"Ha, sewer side," she began. She started laughing to herself. "Sorry. It's an inside joke. I'll think of another one."

"Please don't," I said.

"Yeah, please don't," Ho agreed. "We understand the joke. Right Leah?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah. Sewer side... ha-ha. That's funny."

Mori was not stupid. She knew our laughs were fake. She knew we hated her jokes. Actually, we loved her jokes. But we loved pretending like we hated them more. We loved pretending to hate them more than we cared about Mori.

"Sew anyway, about the essay," Mori said, ignoring our pleas against her jokes. "Get it. Like I took the 'sew' from 'sewer' and used it for the word 'so' in the commonly used phrase 'so anyway.' Another piece of fine work by me if I do say so - say 'sew' - myself." She was cackling again.

Ho closed his eyes. Meditating. "If this is what life entails... if this is all it is, then how can it be worth living?"

For our essay we decided to pick the concept of a school classroom as a structure. We talked about how children in classrooms develop skills that affect several parts of society on a macro scale. And we also talked about the dynamics between teachers and students on a micro scale. Ho and Mori both pulled their weight, though I made sure to do proof-reading of Ho's section (he was prone to lazy errors).

That was a main reason the three of us kept working together. As dysfunctional as our group was, we got work done. Mori's puns were terrible, but in a fun way that kept us soothed. Like that story I read one time about this angel who goes to a planet called Earth to learn how to read but ends up in a BDSM relationship. On second thought, that story just sucked.

As much as I called Ho an idiot, it was hard to deny that the guy had some brains. He had a knack for writing philosophical musings that sounded smarter than they were. Which was perfect for getting high grades on essays. I had come to learn that essays were not about content, but about being loquacious and using fancy words like loquacious. Even when the word made no sense.

In just under an hour, we had the assignment complete. We handed it in next class and would receive a perfect score once it got graded.

***

I was bothering Andrea.

"Know what clubs you're going to join? The club fair is soon, you know." I poked a finger into her arm as she tried to ignore me. "Hey, we should find a sorority to be a part of. With you being a math major, you could probably get me into one easily. Without all the hazing. Though hazing at this school might be kind of interesting. By the way, how come you stopped getting croissants for me?"

She continued to ignore me, glued to her textbook. I pouted and looked at the page. I nearly threw up. "Is that what Calc III is like?" I asked. There were a bunch of tables and fancy symbols.

Andrea scratched her head and turned the page. Ugh, I'm so bored. I had already finished my work and I was waiting for Andrea to finish hers so we could do... stuff. I waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello??"

"What?" Andrea said, finally noticing me.