Math Pet in Training

This takes place in a universe where young women go through a period of eligibility for being trained sexually by men whose daughters have also gone through (or are in) that stage. For each girl, it begins with a public Festival after her 18th birthday. Many thanks to the author of How to Train your Daughter for the universe, which I have taken some liberties with. This takes place after "Roommates in Training" and before "Untraining Yourself".

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He'd picked her up at a lecture. Or picked her out, although there hadn't been an abundance of eligible girls to choose from, it being a Saturday evening talk on algebraic topology.

The previous evening, her suitemate and friend Michelle had been summoned to the house of a trustee for an extended training session. Michelle was thrilled about it -- he had a pool and several of his friends were coming. She told Emily that she was going to be naked all weekend and the men had a bet for who was going to be able to bring her the most orgasms. The winner was going to perform with her a sexual act so decadent that she wouldn't even tell Emily what it was.

To Emily, this sounded awful. Being trained by one man was bad enough -- not having any privacy for your own body, having your secret parts be on display for him, and having to obey perfectly or risk punishment, even if you were trying in earnest to please. But she was glad that Michelle was excited, and more than a little envious of how much she was enjoying herself.

Emily, meanwhile, wasn't sure what to do with herself for the weekend. She wanted to find something to do, somewhere to go where she could around other people but where she was unlikely to be claimed for a session of her own.

She could have seen what the other girls in her dormitory were doing, but while she and Michelle had immediately taken to each other, the other girls seemed to keep their distance, and Emily couldn't figure out whether the issue was her roommate, herself, or a little bit of both.

She thought that a lecture would be a safe place to stay unnoticed. Emily had found that extracurricular academic events tended to be attended more heavily by the male graduate students or younger professors who were not yet eligible to train girls rather than by the older ones. When you had every 18-year-old girl at your sexual disposal, she supposed, you might have better things to do with your free evenings than go to lectures.

It was November and Emily was dressed as appropriately for the weather as you could be, within the bounds of decorum as an eligible girl. Her fuzzy brown boots kept her feet and calves warm on the walk across campus, but her short denim miniskirt did nothing to protect anything above her calves from the cold or wind.

This was the unofficial uniform of girls in training on campus this winter, and she consoled herself while she walked that while she may not have been comfortable, at least she was doing a sufficient job of displaying the thighs and ass she'd worked so hard in the gym to develop. She'd allowed herself a navy sweater, but kept it properly unbuttoned to show off the tops of her ample breasts. Her long brown hair was, as usual, pulled back.

The lecture was being held in one of the smaller classrooms in the math building. There were about twenty people in attendance, of whom just a couple of others were women, and she guessed they were both likely old enough to have aged or married out of training. It was sunset already when the lecture started - cold and dark outside - but the room was warm and warmly lit. The thick red carpet muffled all the footsteps, and the oak podium and matching chairs were just a bit nicer than the furniture in the big undergraduate lecture halls where Emily had most of her classes.

She noticed him about halfway through the lecture. By that point, she had concluded that it was over her head and mostly given up on understanding it, contenting herself with grasping the very occasional sentence. She didn't recognize anyone from her math class and she guessed they were mostly upperclassmen or graduate students. She didn't feel dumb, exactly, just a bit off -- like somewhere else there was a room where she belonged and where everyone was having a slightly worse time for her lack of presence.

Having given up on understanding what was being said, she was playing a game to herself that, against her better judgment, she'd allowed Michelle to sell her on. In it, you guessed at the approximate size and shape of the genitals of men around you. Michelle would go a step further and try to determine whether her guess was true by coming up with contrivances, of which she had a surprising number, to get men to show them enough to confirm or disconfirm their guesses; Emily was not nearly bold enough to go down that route, so her guesses tended to be purely academic.

As part of the game, she scanned the room and tried to do so discreetly. Graduate students tended to be just a bit more threadbare than the undergraduates, although all of the men were well-dressed, as men tended to be. The lecturer tonight was in a dark gray suit, complete with a tie. Most of the rest of the men were in slacks and button ups, with the occasional polo shirt.

She noticed him because he was complementing his otherwise-ordinary khaki slacks and blue button-up with a light pink bow tie and matching pocket square. She thought this made him look rather dapper, and she liked that he was taking notes with a fountain pen. She thought he looked older, but she wasn't sure if he was old enough to be a trainer. She tried to formulate a guess about his penis but just felt foolish: while Michelle swore there were tells, Emily had never been able to find any, so it just seemed random.

He approached her after the lecture as she was scooping some baby carrots onto her plate. He was holding a glass of wine and now that she was standing close to him, she could see that he was tall and thin.

"Just a terrific talk tonight, wasn't it?" He smiled at her and she froze up. You weren't supposed to shake hands with men who were eligible - it was rude, since it implied that you were just offering them your hand and not your whole body. But for her to put her hands behind her back and push her chest out, the way you were supposed to do it if you were at the beginning of a possible training session, felt like an awkward way to greet him if he just wanted to chat about topology. Emily tried to split the difference as she stood up a little straighter and responded.

"It was just great. I really enjoyed it." She put a big smile on her face and hoped he wouldn't ask her about the specifics of what she liked about it.

"So nice to see a young lady interested in this kind of thing! What a special girl that makes you."

Emily continued to smile and nod. The real question between them, what would dictate where this encounter might go, remained unanswered.

"And would you be an eligible girl, my dear?"

There it was. Emily relaxed a little, knowing now what the social conventions were, even if she was still hoping he would decide not to train her.

"Yes, sir. My name is Emily and I'm an eligible girl." She stuck her chest out, elbows behind her back, offering herself to fondle as he made his decision. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple of young men looking at her and then at the refreshments table that she still stood in front of.

"Lovely, lovely. Nice to meet you, Ms. Emily. I'm Elijah Plummer, and you can call me Mr. Plummer."

Elijah took Emily's hand and guided her away from the table to the podium, which was now deserted as the center of gravity of the room had moved toward the food and drink. He put his wine glass down. "In a few years, you'll be up there talking about math and sharing whatever brilliant discoveries you've made, little lady! But for now, we've got something else to focus on, don't we?"

Emily nodded. She liked his cheerfulness, his ease with this interaction that she still found awkward even as she believed fully in its importance.

"I'm going to examine your body, my math pet. If I like what I see, I'll take you back to my hotel room. How does that sound?"

As he spoke, he put one hand on her hip and another on her face. He prompted her to open her mouth, and she obeyed, although she wasn't sure what he was looking for there. She knew the question was perfunctory - she couldn't have said no if she'd wanted - but she still appreciated the concept of it - the idea that her agreement might be important.

Elijah explained that he was in town visiting his twins, one boy and one girl, both juniors. "She just got married - cost me a pretty penny, but I couldn't be more proud! Third-best night of my life, after their birth and her festival!" His son was engaged as well and both young couples were out at a movie. "And I can tell you, they did not want Dad tagging along, so here I am instead." He mentioned that he'd studied engineering in college and relished the opportunity to go to a lecture.

He began unbuttoning her sweater. She hadn't yet figured out what to do with her body when this was happening. Sometimes she would go through prime numbers in her head to keep herself from fidgeting.

"Oh, that's very nice, Ms. Emily. Your breasts are beautiful." She relaxed when he said that, breathing a little deeper. He unclasped her bra and began with light strokes using his whole hand, almost as if he were petting her. Across the room, a cluster had formed around the speaker, but she supposed it was just as well that she was instead getting felt up, since she didn't have much to say. She felt her genitals beginning to respond, getting wetter, as she'd been conditioned to do by previous trainers.

"Perfect, perfect, just one more thing my dear." He turned her and had her bend down and touch her toes so that he could pull up her skirt. She felt a tug at her panties. Normally she was skittish enough that she might have automatically stood up and risked punishment, but everything about this man was putting her at ease.

"You, my dear, have a lovely butt. I'm sure I'm not the first man to tell you that but let me be the latest." He cupped her vulva and, upon feeling it, he practically hummed. "How unique! And you're nicely wet for me already! Yes, I believe you are going to be coming with me, dear."

He instructed her to get dressed again, which she was grateful for, but he wanted to chat with the speaker before they left. The refreshments table had been sacked by graduate students and she was left to munch on the remaining bell pepper slices - a vegetable she didn't even like - to give herself something to do.

She stood next to Elijah as the men conversed, with him occasionally remembering her and briefly resting a hand on her shoulder or lower back or noting how impressive it was to see a young girl so interested in this topic that she would give her Saturday night up to learn more about it.

When he announced it was time to go ("let's get this show on the road, Ms. Emily!"), she was relieved, although she still would have preferred to be going back to her dorm, with perhaps a stop at the dining hall to pick up a burger. He walked her to his car, which was parked in the lot next to the building. The temperature had dropped further, so she was glad for this. He opened the door for her and did up her seatbelt, a touch she found condescending but also oddly welcome.

He was staying at one of the small hotels outside of campus, and as she fumbled in her purse for her student ID badge at the campus gates, he chatted with the young security attendant. "Don't worry, I'll have her back in a jiff!" It wasn't exactly that there was a curfew, but for girls who were leaving overnight, you did have to sign out and tell them where you were going, the college taking its responsibilities to act in loco parentis - or in loco pateris - seriously. Emily was glad to hear that he would have her back that evening.

He stopped at a drive-through on the way. "I have you pegged for a fish sandwich and diet cola kind of gal, is that right?" It wasn't, but she'd found herself wanting to live up to his version of her She wanted to be the cheerful, compliant girl he envisioned her as, so she smiled big and agreed. If he wanted a girl who ate fish sandwiches, then she would try being that girl. As she took the first bite, she found she did enjoy the warmth of it on her tongue and the flavor of the fish and the tartar sauce together. Perhaps he could be right about the rest of it as well, she considered.

Elijah handed his keys to the valet in front of the hotel and put a hand on her back to guide her in. He bragged about her to the man at the front ("isn't my trainee just the cutest?") and in the elevator, he told her what a nice surprise it had been to find her at the lecture and she smiled.

When they got to his room, with its wood paneling and actual fireplace, he directed her to pour him a glass of scotch, no ice, from the small bottle on the desk. He pressed a button the nightstand and the radio turned on, a male voice singing "peaches and cream, lips like strawberry wine" to a guitar accompaniment. She brought him his drink and he took it and sat on the chair before giving her more directions. All of a sudden, he seemed more serious than before.

"Stand over here. Close to me, but just far enough that I can't touch you. Now strip. Nice and slow. Perform for me, Emily. Show me you're a woman."

Emily didn't know what that meant, but whatever it was she wanted to do it. She started with the sweater, trying to look more confident than she felt as she undid each button. She put it on the bed and then unclasped her bra.

"Look me in the eyes when you do that," he instructed. "You have beautiful breasts. Show me you're proud of them." Emily looked at him and ran her hands over her breasts, trying to make him want to touch them. He let out a low sigh that sounded like approval.

Next, she slid her skirt off, trying to do it slowly and in a teasing way and not as if she were about to put on pajamas. Then, she reached for her boots and he interjected.

"No. Leave those on. I want to see you in just your boots. Turn around so you're facing away from me and take your panties off."

She turned away from him and leaned over, trying to channel some half-remembered lesson about the sexiest way to do this. She leaned over as much as she could without bending her legs and then slowly slipped off her sheer white panties, trying to show him as much of her pussy from behind as she could. He cried out, almost a grunt, and she felt confident but a little afraid of what he was going to do ither next. She straightened up and stood there, her back to him, waiting for directions.

"I'm going to touch you now, Emily. And you're going to stand as straight as you can and be a good girl for me." He stood up from the chair and approached her. He cupped her from behind the way he had earlier and then began tugging on her inner labia. "These are beautiful. I want to stretch them out even more. I bet when I get you even more turned on they just fill out." " Emily was uncomfortable at this. Even the thought of them at their normal size made her insecure - but she didn't flinch.

Finished for the moment with her pussy, he ran his hands over her arms, shoulders, finally her legs. He sat her down to pull off her boots and appraised her calves, squeezing their muscles and commenting approvingly. "I can tell you're a girl who works out.", he said, and she was so pleased that he had gotten that part of her correct that she responded with a bright "you've got that right, Mr. Plummer!" She immediately felt silly saying it like that, but he smiled at her and she felt for a moment like she was basking in the warmth of it.

He took his own clothes off leisurely and folded them on the bureau. His penis was medium-sized and Emily felt relieved that it wasn't bigger.

He posed her naked and in bed, her legs spread. He took some close-up pictures of her like that, having her pull her labia apart to display her glistening insides. She was feeling emboldened by his confidence in her, and she wanted to do a good job not just because it was her responsibility but because she found herself genuinely wanting to impress him, to live up to his idea of her.

When he was done, he told her to give him a blow job. "You might not know this, but this whole line, from the base to the tip," and he took his cock in his hand and showed her - this just feels the best when you lick it. Start out with that - nice and slow, like an ice cream cone. Look at me while you do it. Eye contact."

She held the base of his cock and looked into his eyes while licking him. He seemed pleased and continued to talk. "Now you're going to take me in your mouth and slide up and down. But at the same time as you're sucking on me, you're going to keep your tongue pressed up against my penis."

At first, she didn't get the right spot, and then she took him too deep too quickly and she gagged, but he was patient and supportive throughout it. "We don't do enough basic education on these things - we train you girls to give pretty good blowjobs, and that's fine, but a girl like you - if you can understand all that math back there, then you can do better than just a pretty good blowjob."

She was enjoying getting to focus on his cock without any pressure on her body to feel or respond a certain way. He seemed to intuitively grasp what she needed - to be guided, to be praised. He was constantly telling her she was a good girl, and she found herself loving that identity and loving the feeling of being on her knees on the bed, looking up at him almost in worship.

When he was ready to have an orgasm, he gave her a new set of instructions: she was to get every drop in her mouth and then open it and show him. She was to put his hand on her throat, swallow while she made eye contact, and then open her mouth again after to show him it was gone. Finally, she was to show him "her biggest and sweetest smile." He told her the smiling part was key, and he winked.

She kept sucking and soon she could feel him tense up, and then she felt his cum fill her mouth. In that moment, she thought she saw something wild and uncivilized in his eyes, and she was proud to be responsible for that. She went through the steps he'd told her to, glad that he'd spelled out what he wanted instead of leaving her to guess as so many men did. After she was finished, his hand was softly on her throat and there was a big, genuine grin on her face.

"You did well, Ms. Emily. I knew you would be a good girl."

She felt relieved and pleased and as did not happen frequently in her training sessions, even hopeful about what might happen next.

"I know girls like you - you sometimes get self-conscious about your body, is that right?"

She nodded, although she wasn't sure what he meant by a girl like her.

"Trust me, you have nothing to be self-conscious about. All of it -- spectacular, ok? I wouldn't be putting in the time to train you if I didn't see a very special girl, and that body of yours -- you are truly built for this, for me to enjoy you."

He paused.

"I think sometimes we don't focus enough on the pleasure aspect of this for you girls. Not just telling you that you should thank us by having an orgasm, but really teaching you how you like to be touched and investing some time getting you there."

After he said this, he lay her down on the bed, face down, and started rubbing her back and making "sshh" noises. She found herself relaxing, almost getting sleepy as she felt the smooth skin of his hands on her, the pattern of his hand going up then down, then repeating. Occasionally he would dip further, grazing her ass, and she found herself wanting more.

"I want you to just think about your body now, sweetheart. Don't worry about anything. No pressure. You're going to take some deep breaths for me and you're just going to trust in your natural instincts and your training, ok? Your body and I, we know what to do together, alright?"