Rivalry in Indian Dorm Life

Ekanga's penis started growing. I moved my head back to look at it. The head barely noticeably slow moved forward away from my hand. The shaft grew longer between my hand and the penis head. The penis grew rounder. Ekanga presented him right next to the principal with his hard on: "See, I did it all naked and erect!" "Yes, you did it. You may go now into the side room." I gave Ekanga the pile of his clothes as he left through the side room. The principal reviewed my academic records and made me correct a few things on the application form.

The rest of my observations at the college are part of my dissertation. So, I cannot write about them. However, there was a time, when we went off campus. I can tell you that time. We had won the first dorm soccer tournament. Dorm soccer has little to do with real soccer. It is a vile hazing game with little rules that mainly provide the backdrop for abuse. Our team consisted of my room mates. There is Sheela. She is an innocent rural girl. She seems to have a little crush on our room mother Trishana. There is Rhada. She exudes sexuality and is very knowledgeable. My bunk mate Anisha tends to always get punished. She almost has aura that attracts punishment to her. It is like it is the only way that she knows that she belongs, if she gets punished. There was a highly promised reward for winning the dorm soccer tournament.

One of the dorm rules was absolute nudity from dusk till dawn. The reason for the rule was that our dorm mothers could at all times inspect our perfectly shaved pubic hair. Due to the proximity of living with so many girls it was deemed necessary to be cleanly shaven. The true reason was probably simply to have all the freshmen run around naked, while our dorm mothers, students of the last year, were dressed. My roommates and I were corralled out of our room, down the hallways into the yard in front of the school building. The low brick fence left us naked and exposed to the public. However, as it was night, the street was empty. The exception was the taxi that had stopped. The driver in his drab clothes was leaning against his car smoking and watching us.

The dorm mother's explained to us that our treat and reward was a secret mission. It may seem at first like a punishment. We were to be given to a rival college for a night and day of punishment to their pleasing. However, the treat part was that we were on a secret mission. We were to still the underwear of the rival principal. To successfully steal a pair of his underwear would bestow much glory on us. If we succeeded, all of our freshman class mates would have to serve us however we wanted for an entire week.

We were let out onto the sidewalk with our bare feet on the pavement. There was a blue pickup truck. We were corralled onto of the truck bed. Our bare feet stood on the corrugated metal truck bed. Our naked butts sat on the rim of the metal trunk. We were quickly ushered to stand up. There was a tall metal create on the trunk bed. It was about six feet tall, like an oversized coffin.

Sheela was told to lie down on the rough wood. Rhada was told to squeeze herself next to it. The two were nestled into the bottom of the crate touching each other. I was ordered to lie on top of Rhada facing down. Rhada kissed me on the lips as a warm welcome. Our boobs, stomach, and hips were resting skin to skin against each other. I lowered my head to her side to rest it comfortably.Anisha lay down next to me. The top of the crate was pushed against my butt. The sound of the hammer driving nails into the crate shuddered in my ears. The car started and we were driven off.

When the car would make a swift motion for an abrupt stop or a pothole, eight girl hands were reaching around four naked girl bodies. Rhada got tired of my weight. We tried to shift sideways to both lie on the side. My butt cheeks got pressed against Sheela behind me. Anisha accidentally drooled on my neck. Rhada stole kisses from my face.

The car motion was replaced by humans carrying our crate. The car motions were short jerks. The human motions were large and soft movements. We were placed on the ground. We heard a crowbar pulling nails out of the crate, until the chanting of many college girls drowned out the sound: "Fresh meat! Fresh meat!"

We weren't given much of a chance. We got one glimpse of a large mess hall with clothed tables and college girls in uniform. Then, we would be dragged off by a single leg. The other leg would fall to the side to widely expose our sexes and anus to any onlooker. Thus, our weight resting on our chest, we were dragged. The smooth floor glided under our breasts. Occasionally, the skin squeaked against the floor.

Next we were lifted on little service tables on wheels. The tables were as long as our torso. Our butt was right at the edge of the table. The legs were placed on medical stirrups to raise them out of the way of any access to our bodily orifices below. Our heads rested on a little head rest extending out of the table. The surface of the table was covered with elegant white table clothes. Under the table was another level where certain knick knacks had been placed. We were neatly tied to the table with soft white rope.

A tall girl with a black, checkered skirt, white blouse, and shiny black shoes addressed the crowd: "Dear fellows, today we are learning to cook with humans." The mess hall became quiet. The cook lifted a white asparagus stalk high into the air. "Of course, you expect something phallus shaped." She pushed the white asparagus into my vagina. The feeling was cold and thin, so thin that my muscles or tension could not resist the foreign object.

"While the vaginal emission provides a nice coating, asparagus does not take on much of the pussy flavor. Something soft and porous like these bread cubes acts like a sponge absorbing her liquids. As bread easily crumbs and crumbs are hard to get out, we put the bread cubes into a little bag made from cheese clothes. It is called a sachet garni. It comes with a string attached to pull it out." A finger joined the asparagus and started circling to loosen up my vagina. Then, the little bag with three bread cubes was pushed inside of me. This was all interesting for anthropological reasons. Human cooking is little documented.

"You probably wonder about the ass. There is so much more space. Even the taste may be strong, there is a valid place in human cooking. A little bit ass taste can be delicious, just like salt makes dishes excellent, yet is unbearable to eat by itself. Here is a cherry tomato. We will dip it into her ass only for a second and put it into her pussy for finishing. Covering the cherry tomato in olive oil makes it go in more easily."

A moment later, I felt two fingers pushing around the outside of my anus. Then, with a sudden movement, a cherry tomato plunged into me. I felt repulsed. I tried to call out, yet swallowed any sound in the shock. The cook's voice told me to shit the cherry tomato out into her hand. A second later, her fingers pinched my nipples so hard that I felt it down to my clitoris. The pinch turned harder on my nipple, until I was pushing hard despite my repulsion to shit into a cupped hand of another person. The cherry tomato popped out. The cook held it up to her nose to smell it. With satisfaction, she pushed it into my vagina.

"Now, we don't want to overfill the pussy oven. Even, if there is more space, there may not be enough juices to go around. So, let's turn the oven on." The cook rolled a Hitachi vibrator wand out on a rolling stand. The stand had three wheels and a height adjustable metal stick in between. The Hitachi want was placed against my vagina. The vibrations were intense and shook my body like a Jumping Jack soil compactor to make streets.

The cook lectured over the whirring of the vibrator: "Of course, when you get bored, there is the entertainment feature of a human oven." My headrest was flipped down. I tried holding my neck up. Yet, a hand pushed down on my forehead. The cook lifted her skirt and dumped it over me. She pushed her vulva against my lips and told me to lick. Her vulva was dry. The cook must be nervous about public speaking. I licked her a couple times all the way up and down. Then, she stepped away. She continued her lecture on other recipes with Rhada, Sheela, and Anisha.

My world was intensely colored by the Hitachi at my pussy and my sexual feelings. It is weird getting sexual aroused without being mentally turned on. It is almost like an outer body experience. Apparently, my pussy got wet. Apparently, I felt good. Apparently, I was kind of confused about being in front of so many people naked and thus treated. As I got sweaty from the experience, the cook came back to place rice sushi rolls on my stomach and breasts. She wanted to soak up the essence of my sweat into the rice.

The feeling of pleasure rose and ebbed on my clitoris. At times, I felt my whole trunk dully being shaken by vibrations. Other times, I felt a plum of passion in my loins that made me press down on the Hitachi to feel it more. The first orgasm was the best. The latter ones were mere peaks. My eyes would close and all I'd see were colors. My eyes would fall open. With my head tilted back, I'd see one of the college girls at a dining table. She'd look at the cooking instructor handle Rhada. I'd look at her. I'd look at her pinks lips with that soft lip stick. I'd imagine her lip prints on my naked body. I'd imagine her mascara becoming runny, as she'd move her face across my sweaty body.

The cooking instructor deemed the food in me as done. Her index finger glided over my forehead to pick up sweat. She tasted my sweat in her mouth. She rated my sweat between dull and salty. She pulled away the Hitachi. She pressed her hand on my wet pussy, before she unplugged the food one by one out of my pussy. Her gingerly fingers went in. She'd swirl them around in a hook inside of me to get the last piece out. She placed all the food on a serving plate. It was white and had some soft blue ornaments. With a delicate knife and for, she cut all the pieces into tiny sample sizes and placed tooth picks on the plate as well. I was untied and told to squat on the floor.

I was squatting on the floor with my naked butt at my heel. My boobs rested against my knees. I had my arms wrapped around the shins for balance. The room was elegantly decorated. That made me the zoo animal on exhibition. The room was quiet as the college girls obeyed the ceremony. A plumb girl with fat curls around her face randomly stood out to me.

The cooking instructor gave me the presentation plate. I was sent off to walk in a squat to never raise my boy high, like one of the privileged people. I was to server as many girls as possible. I was to be quiet and only get their attention only by kissing their feet. So, I waddled on in my squat. The tooth picks tended to roll around. I had to be careful to keep them rolling only on the plate. The first table was a few steps away.

Four girls were sitting around the table. The table top with the white table clothes was at my eye level. They were above the table pretending to ignore me. My eyes were focused on the shiny black patent leather shoes of the first girl. The shiny black buckle went over the arch of her foot with the sinews showing as five lines crossing beneath it. Her brown skin was dry. Her thigh swung open. Her school uniform skirt went straight from the top of one thigh to the other like a roof. A pair of tidy white panties looked straight at me.

Her hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me forward into the triangle of her brown thighs. As my head reached the center of her thighs with my chest pressed against the cold edge of the chair, she wrapped them tight around my head. The voluptuous flesh of her thigh cradled my ears and pressed them against my skull. My cheeks were pushed forward. A heavy bulge of her thigh flesh pressed against my eyes making it hard to see. A hand took the plate from mine: "You don't need to hold that."

Her thighs turned sideways and torqued my whole body to shuffle under the table. The white table clothes brushed over my back. Her hand pushed against my black lush hair. I fell backward under the table. The table underside was like a room. The white table clothes fell halfway down to the floor in formal elegance. Eight knees, eight shins, and eight feet were extending into my room. The legs neatly kicked of the patent leather shoes and shoved them into a nice parallel pair next to each chair. The first foot had neat purple toe polish with white and black dashes extending from a center like a stylist flower. The foot landed squarely on one of my boobs. The foot pushed my nipples down. It pressed my breast tissue down in the center, so that it bulged up around the ball of her foot.

A more muscular and darker foot followed on my face and nose. It had rancid cheese-like smell: "Oh, I played extra hard Lacrosse for you and did not shower just for you." The foot tapped my lips and cheeks like a game. Many feet followed on my legs and body. I could not individually count them. Eight naked girl feet were dancing on my body. I clearly noted that the feet started pushing in synchronicity to pull my legs apart. Following their success a foot started grinding on my pubic bone. In some kind of odd reflex to the confusing feeling of pleasure, I reached for a foot and started sucking on the big toe in some infantile regressive behavior.

"We need her for dessert," said a firm voice. The happy dancing feet expulsed me out of my table tent. Strong arms grabbed my upper arms and pulled me towards a hotel trolley. There was a golden trolley that hotels used to transport baggage from the curb side to the room. It had a solid platform over wheels with a fake and worn carpet. Each corner had a two inch pole extending up to head level. Two poles were connected with an arch on top. The two arches were connected by a fake golden rod. The hotel porter would hang clothing from it. I was put on the carpet.

A soft white rope was wrapped around hip in three rounds. It fit snuggly against my pelvic bone. The rope was tight to the wardrobe rod on top. Another three rounds of a separate rope were wrapped around my upper torso close to my arm pit yet above most of my breast. The rope was also fastened to the wardrobe rod. Hand gently yet insistently pushed me to lean back, until my body was horizontal and resting on the two ropes like an ultra cheap hammock. The rope at my hips was raised a couple inches to make sure that only the balls of my foot touched the worn carpet.

Four more rounds of rope were wrapped around the middle of my trunk. These ensured that I would arch my back elegantly back. My hands were tied to opposite rods. I now looked like a high jumper pushing off the ground with my feet, while my back already arched over the jumping pole and my arms reached way back. My posture was finished by lifting my left thigh. My heel was pushed against my buttocks. Rope was wrapped a luxurious eight times around the tope of my thigh and ankle. The knee was fastened to a corner rod to ensure that my sex was spread open and available. The final touch was to tie my foot that was still in contact with the ground to remain in touch with the ground. Thus, I was strapped into the hotel trolley – immobile and elegant.

The cook from earlier pulled a serving cart close to me. It was covered by elegant white table cloth. On top of it was an alcohol burner with four plates. Each plate had a coffee pot with a long beak on it. The thick blue color with white sprinkles on the coffee pot looked pretty. Next to the coffee burner were little glass bowls with slithered almonds, bright colored sugar balls, and chocolate chips. "Chocolate is so delicious, because it melts in the mouth. This chocolate has been especially formulated to remain hard at body temperature." The cook raised one of the kettles high into the air.

The cooks hand touched my shoulder as to reassure me that nothing bad would happen. She lifted the kettle high above my breast and tilted it forward. Thick brown liquid poured down. The burning pain jolted my senses. The next moment, it turned into a cozy warm caressing sensation. I started looking forward to the pain relieved by heart warming pleasure. The circles that the cook painted on my breast widened out from the nipples to create a bra. As the chocolate cover reached the edge of my boobs, the center at my nipples had turned into a hard chocolate brick. The firmness felt kind of good. There was something snug about body fitted chocolate.

The cook reached for another kettle. White thick liquid poured out of it. She painted little bows and crosses on my chocolate bra. The black kettle drew little fake folds onto my chocolate bra. It accentuated the bottom more as to give my breasts more shadow, depth and volume. She finished it off by using the bright yellow sugar balls to create a highlight on the top of my breasts.

My vagina was a lot more sensitive. The flow of hot chocolate on my clitoris was painful, yet the tingling that it caused was so sensual. The pain and tingling drove me wild. I wanted to have a penis inside of me to unleash the erotic fury that was building. I wanted more heat, yet a layer of chocolate had already set. The second layer only radiated mellow warmth through the set chocolate layer. Now I had a bikini top and bottom.

"Dessert time!" exclaimed the cook. A million chairs shuffling on the ground was followed by the click clock of a herd of patent leather shoes on the ground storming. The first lock of hair hit me in my face as a college girl had missed her mark and bumped into my head. The next was a mouth that eagerly lurched right into the middle of my breast and bit my nipple to break of a piece of chocolate. All the girls were pushing in around my hotel trolley. Some merely managed to hold onto the trolley or me to maintain position. A few others managed to maintain their balance in the pushing and shoving to dart their mouths and tongues onto my body. They were feverish like a herd of piranhas darting to chew their prey clean to the bone. I don't recall the details. It felt wonderful like a million cats licking you with their tongues. There was a mixture of softness of tongues and the sharp prick of teeth biting a bit more than the chocolate. There was the contrast of pin accurate mouths and broad bodies being pushed against mine by the crowd.

As the last straggler found out that I was licked and bitten clean, the crowd gave a bit of space. The girls had gotten the chocolate distributed over their face and smeared on their clean and prim clothes. The cook laughed broadly. My roommates looked at me in a kind of horror.

My roommates and I were finally released from the dinner processions. We were lead upstairs to the dormitory. The rich mahogany railing of the stairs, the marble tiles on the floor, and elaborately framed photos at the wall were beautiful. We were locked into the shower room. Little square white and blue tiles covered the floor, walls, and ceilings. Metal drains were in the middle of the room. A nest of mattresses and blankets was in the corner of the shower. We showered our naked bodies from the dinner leftovers and cuddled in the corner on the makeshift bedding. A plastic pouch of cookies was hidden under a pillow.

After the cookie snack, I started bawling. The echo of my sound startled me and I started sobbing quietly. Rhada came close. Like all the nights, I pushed her away. Her strong body stayed close and moved on top of me. The whole experience of my undercover research into college hazing is so overwhelming. Most of my life has been spent observing and mentally living the wildest things, yet even being talked to by a friend caused anxiety to me. Being so intensely thrust into the world to feel and be treated is so overwhelming. It is not that I want to cry. It is that these waves come over me and all my academic reason leaves me. I want to stop shuddering, yet my body keeps shuddering. I hear my wailing voice. It scares me. It sounds foreign.