School Daze Forever Ch. 01

"Thank you, Mistress," I sighed again. I'd always liked being taken care of, and Mistress Vivienne was absolutely right that she was making me feel good.

I didn't feel the urge to cum again, even though a deep, sexual warmth had enveloped my entire core. The rod stayed in for a while; Mistress adjusted it a few times, and seemed very interested in my reactions. I remember that she got warm, too -- her large breasts above me, and her lap below. Her breathing got deeper and heavier, and it was like a gentle wave I was riding; the ocean behind it was powerful, but it restrained itself for my benefit. It wanted to put me at ease, and it succeeded.

She withdrew the long rod slowly, letting me squeeze a little around it to ease the transition. I felt a hint of disappointment and emptiness when it was out of me completely, but with one little rub on the small of my back and an encouraging word, Mistress Vivienne made those feelings disappear.

"Now to plug you, Jenny," she said. "Good little college girls wear these whenever a Mistress or Master wants them to, and for now, I want you to."

"Yes, Mistress."

The next warm, wet, wonderful thing that touched my hole started off smaller than the rod, but got bigger. I got stretched, and my hole heated up as it expanded. It felt right, just like everything else had. My body already understood that my ass was for sex; my Mistress and my college had made sure of it. As for my mind, well... my mind wasn't really a problem anymore. It was open to my Mistress and to the college, and was ready to be filled with whatever they and my body told it. It did help that the wider my hole was dilated by that rightful invader, the more Mistress Vivienne rubbed, shushed, and encouraged me. When it closed around a narrow part of the plug, she grabbed the toy's base and made more of those adjustments, like she had with the rod. I squirmed a little, and she let me. Soon, we both knew that I was properly plugged. Physically, it felt naughty and fun -- a little bit like a tease, too. Emotionally, though, there was no teasing. There was only the satisfaction of submission -- perpetual submission.

She massaged and spread my cheeks. I felt it in my pussy, which meant I also felt it everywhere else, even places you wouldn't think of. I felt it in my toes, and in my brain. I groaned in pleasure.

"You can squeeze that plug whenever you like, Jenny," she said. "It's a wonderful reminder that you're under my care. I'll teach you how to take it out, clean it, lube it, and put it back in later. Right now, just twitch and squeeze and let it be in you."

Before I could offer up another blissful affirmative, her fingers returned to my soaking-wet pussy.

"Oh!" I cooed. "Thank you, Mistress!"

She worked me over like an expert again. That time, with my rear hole taken care of, she was able to tease my engorged, throbbing button, too. She let me squirm, rock, and hump on her lap. I think she liked it. I know I did.

"Cum while your cute little asshole is under my control, Jenny," Mistress Vivienne said. She didn't even wait for me to ask her permission.

I came hard, and the feeling of my rear passage and asshole squeezing around the plug strengthened and lengthened my orgasm.

"That's right," she said huskily. "Cumming is always better when you're under control, Jenny. It's always better when your Mistresses or Masters are controlling your ass."

"Yes, Mistress!" I cried. "Thank you, Mistress!"

Unbidden, the thought popped in my head: and it'll be even better when they properly fuck it.

I think she read my mind, and I think she was proud of me.

Then it was nighttime; I was naked, though still plugged. One clear memory zips and zaps to another. They're linked so tightly that there's not even any fuzzy stuff in between -- but there must have been something. I just don't know what. I know it wasn't nearly as important as my spanking, my plug, my orgasms, and what came next.

Mistress Vivienne was standing near the bed. The light was low and incandescent; it was warm, just like everything else in my new life. It was also tinged green again. I was facing towards her, closer to the door that was behind me. She was naked. That was the first time I saw her that way. I was simply amazed.

Her olive skin beckoned me to taste every inch of it. Her breasts defied gravity. She was thin, curved, and round in all the right places. Her muscles hid themselves away just enough beneath her softness.

Her nipples were protruding, and they looked wet. I was already warm, but I got hungry and thirsty, then, too. As soon as I saw that sheen of moisture, I started smelling its source. It was milk, and I needed it. It was nighttime, so I was ready for my usual glass. I was waking up, though, and 'getting' more and more. I put the pieces together, like a real college girl would. I knew where my next drink was coming from, and I felt butterflies in my stomach; they must have been hungry, too. My mouth watered at the thought of wrapping around one of those nipples, but I also wanted both of them at once. I wanted both of her big breasts in my mouth somehow, and to suck every last drop out of them.

Mistress Vivienne saw the look on my face. The look on hers was knowing, confident, and aroused, but also sly. With the merest tilt of her head, she commanded my eyes downward. I saw her dark but sparse hair down there, cultivated into artful, smoothed-out triangle. The rest of her was hairless, so I could see her body's softest, plumpest lips, and the hood above them. I felt a new hunger, and knew exactly what to do. She was patient and gracious. She liked that our relationship was moving past simple commands and responses. I knew I needed her permission to approach, but I also knew that I already had it.

I only had to take four or five steps to reach her; she devoured the sight of me with each one. The butterflies went crazy; my whole body felt like it was fluttering along with them. It was like being scared and being nervous had become two of the best feelings ever. Does that make sense? We have classes and games in college that make me feel that way again, but there's nothing quite like the first time.

I knew the game we were playing then. Just like she didn't have to speak, she didn't have to touch me; that's what made her powerful and in control. I got in close and sank down to my knees. There was a soft pillow waiting for me there. I breathed in deeply through my nose. The new hunger only grew, and so I ate, just like in those naughty movies.

I kissed and licked. She was softer than soft, and, soon, juicer than juicy. I had no idea what I was doing, but it didn't matter. I put more pieces together; Mistress Vivienne was like me, in a way. She'd been made beautiful, and made fun. I knew that pleasing her would be easy; submitting and obeying was what mattered. I ran my tongue all along her lips and inside of them; I teased at her hood, and what lay just beneath. Every now and then, I looked up, trying to find her bright blue eyes. When I did, they sent electricity through me.

Her fingers ran through my hair for a while, but then she started grabbing with both hands. She took control of my head, my face, and my lips, and pushed them into her. Her hips started moving. Her taste and smell overwhelmed me. In my funnest of fun places, need and satisfaction were yin and yang, perfectly balanced. I squeezed my plug over and over with my cute little asshole, and discovered the obvious truth that serving a Mistress or Master was also much better when my ass was under their control. The rest of my body felt like a congealed cloud of warm, humid air -- unburdened and practically weightless. Instead of bits of water, the cloud was made up of fine, floating particles of milk.

"Massage my ass, Jenny," Mistress Vivienne said. "Hold me up."

I suddenly had arms and hands again, because she demanded they exist. They were hers, and did her bidding. I loved feeling her soft skin, her hint of plumpness, and the muscles hiding just underneath. Her moans, groans, and heavy breathing were music to my ears. Then came the shuddering, the quivering, and the delicious gush. In other words, then came Mistress Vivienne -- and I'd helped.

The warm milk was already rewarding me, but Mistress Vivienne, still cumming, decided I was worthy of more. "Good girl, Jenny!" she heaved out, and I was so happy I forgot how to be a solid shape. Only her hands grasping my head assured me I still was one. My own hadn't merely gone limp; they'd disappeared, becoming part of the milky cloud again.

The memory stays sharp; I was fuzzy, and remember being that way perfectly. Mistress Vivienne moved me around. Her hands were everywhere, temporarily giving me form just so I could accept the pleasure of her touches. When her hands moved somewhere else, those parts melted and steamed into milk again. I felt so warm and relaxed that I could barely keep my eyes open, and couldn't even smile, though I'd never been so happy.

Soft pillows surrounded me, urging me to stay solid. I was cradled, both by them and by Mistress Vivienne. Then her breast became my whole world; I recognized it by touch and smell, and then by taste. I latched on with a passionate, sucking kiss. Then there was another taste. I remembered I was hungry and thirsty just in time to be fed from the source. I was getting my nightly milk. Mistress Vivienne was getting more pleasure. I remember thinking about how miraculous that was -- that we could both be getting our needs met from each other at exactly the same time, even though we were in two completely different roles. The new happiness it filled me with was tinged with genuine awe.

"You know," she said to me, her thick voice suffused with kindness and generosity, "one of the things you'll learn at college is how to cum whenever you help a Mistress or Master cum."

I cooed into her breast. I felt her body rise and fall with a gentle chuckle. Then her fingers found my pussy and my button. She didn't work me; she petted me. She took gentle ownership of my sex, and sent little pulses of fun up through my warm and fuzzy body, just like the ones my nursing lips and tongue -- and that delicious milk -- were sending down it. I drank my fill like that, and her soft, happy noises were the music to those pulses' rhythm.

Eventually, I found that I could open my eyes again. Next, I found her bright blue ones looking down at me. I knew she loved me, and that I loved her. I felt more of that awe, because I knew our loves were so different, yet perfectly compatible.

"You've been a very good girl for me, Jenny," Mistress Vivienne said, "so I'm going to give you a little choice. Tonight, I'm going to make love to you, and I'm going to fuck you like a bitch. Which do you want to happen first?"

I tried to think, but all I could do was feel. She kept playing with my pussy, and the closeness of her breast was keeping me drunk. I ached for both kinds of domination. She was very patient with me; her eyes even seemed a little playful and knowing as they scanned mine.

"Would you choose for me, Mistress?" I asked in an innocent, girlish voice.

Her gaze became sympathetic, and it made me feel tiny. I liked it. "That's just fine, this time, Jenny," she said. "Now, let's get you on your knees. It's time to collar and leash you."

She helped me get up, and then I got down, back onto the pillow. I was a little confused, and I could tell she knew. She seemed perfectly pleased that I was, so I just waited. My eyes followed her beautiful body everywhere; she walked with grace and poise over to a big hutch, and began searching around within it.

First came the bra -- a black sports bra, with artful criss-crosses in the back. I was a little disappointed her breasts were going away. She read my mind. "I need the support so I can fuck you properly, Jenny." That made a lot of sense. I was happy again.

I didn't see the next item she retrieved right away, but once she bent over, I started to understand. They were like panties, except more complicated. They had toys and nubs inside of them, which were all wet and shiny. That's when I started to get excited again; I remembered those special panties from some of the movies we'd watched together. She slipped them up her long legs until they were almost in the right place, then reached back to make an adjustment. I heard her grunt softly. I knew what was happening; she was slipping one of those wet, purple toys into her ass. Another one was surely going into her pussy. A hot shiver ran through me. I started squeezing my own anal plug like crazy.

"Once you get to college," she remarked, "you'll learn about how technology has advanced. Collars and leashes used to be more than just toys. We used to really need them. Now, though, they're mostly for fun... but I do love the symbolism, and the visual. Call me old-fashioned, I suppose."

That didn't make a lot of sense to me, but I wasn't worried. She'd just assured me I'd learn more later.

After making all the other necessary adjustments to her special black panties, Mistress Vivienne rummaged around some more and retrieved the next items. I knew what they were -- all three of them. I heard a snap and a click, and then she turned around.

The toy she was going to fuck me with was there, dangling thickly between her legs. It was a wet, shiny cock -- as real as any clever toymaker could make it -- and it was the exact color of my Mistress' beautiful, olive skin, right up until it turned a dark purple at the bulbous, flared head. It even sported a pair of pretend balls at its base. It made perfect sense; I had to be trained to take real cocks, just like all those pretty girls in those movies. I knew I'd be taking classes like that at college, and that Mistress Vivienne was just trying to give me a head start. I was so grateful to her. She wanted me to be a top student, right away.

My body agreed with my mind in its own fun-loving way. All three of my holes told me that they should have that thick, healthy cock inside of them. My mouth watered, and so did my pussy. My breasts and nipples throbbed. My asshole, already partially satisfied, still ached with a little bit of fresh need.

When I finally looked up, I saw a collar in Mistress Vivienne's right hand, and a leash in her left. The collar had a tag dangling from it -- my tag, just for me. Then I shifted my gaze again, and saw Mistress Vivienne's expression -- confident, and already satisfied. She walked towards me, and my heart thudded twice for every one of her steps. It sent my hot-milk-as-blood everywhere. My heart would pump, and a split second later, the rest of me would pulse with anticipation.

"One day," she said, "you'll have a real job, Jenny. I do hope your Mistresses or Masters then get you at least one collar, just for old time's sake. You're going to look great in them. We do also like our students to wear them when they're in town, off campus. They let everybody know what you are, and where you belong.

"What are you, Jenny?" she demanded. "Where do you belong?"

"I'm going to be a college girl, Mistress," I answered. "I belong at the college."

That made her happy, which made me even happier in turn. Everything was still so easy. She coaxed my chin up with the faintest brush of her finger. Our eyes locked, and told the story of our two perfectly complementary roles once again. I loved her with all my heart -- without envy, jealousy, worry, or shame. I could barely remember what those feelings had ever felt like; nowadays, they're just part of our acting classes. In a way, that means they're fun. I do feel bad for anybody who still has to feel them for real.

I hoped that my eyes sent my love and gratitude to Mistress Vivienne. Amidst so many other dominant, naughty, and fun emotions, I saw love for me in hers; I know I did.

"Do you want to know what it says, Jenny?"

My eagerness switched focus in an instant, from needing to be collared to needing to know. "Oh, yes, please, Mistress!"

Her smile was wide. She petted my hair and my face like I was a doggy or a kitty, and I loved it.

"The tag is for you. It's your name -- 'Jenny,' for now, but you never know what the future holds -- and all your information. The best tidbit, of course, is your new address: the college dorms.

"See if you can guess what the collar says."

I've worn so many collars since that day. They've had all sorts of fun words and symbols on them, or dangling from them. I know now that some are quite common, and others, rare. There's 'slut,' 'whore,' 'bimbo,' 'slave,' 'kitten,' 'puppy,' 'breeder,' 'fucktoy,' 'cumslut,' 'bad girl,' 'good girl,' and so many more that if each of them were a color, they'd make a naughty, sexy rainbow that never, ever ended.

My very first collar wasn't just about naughty fun, though. It was about so, so much more.

"'College girl,'" I said.

"Very good," she replied.

She leaned down and slipped the padded leather around my delicate neck. It was soft, then it was snug. Then, with a click, it was attached until my Mistress decided it would come off. My eyes were wet; my body couldn't contain my happiness. Another weight I'd never even known I'd been carrying lifted off of my body. The leash clicked onto the O-ring, and I knew I was safe, like a balloon whose string was grasped firmly by a responsible adult instead of some stupid, spoiled child. I could simply float and be pretty, and never be lost.

She stayed leaned over, and brought her full, wine-stained lips to my ear. I was all shivers. I was practically panting.

"There's a little something extra near the back on this one, though, Jenny," she said. "A little 'V.' We still have some time together. Would you like to pretend to be mine, all mine, and only mine for a little while, after your lesson?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said. "Thank you, Mistress."

She nipped my ear, then kissed my cheek. "Good girl," she said, effortlessly flooding me with pleasure again. She stood up and moved closer, so that her dangling dildo was near my face. "Now it's time for your first cocksucking lesson. To that end, we're going to pretend this is a real cock, on a real Master. Do you know what that means?"

I shook my head. "No, Mistress." I looked up at her, hoping for guidance.

She stared down at me, and her blue eyes made me feel dumb and small. I liked it, because I knew she was about to teach me. That's what college was all about: starting dumb, and learning how to be smart. In between them was obedience: listening and practicing.

"That's okay, Jenny," she said. "Most Masters want you to love their cocks; someone will be sure to tell you if they don't. So, first things first: you stare at the cock. You look at it with lust, reverence, and awe. Act like it's hypnotizing you -- like it might become your whole world."

"Like your breast, Mistress," I murmured.

"Oh, Jenny," she said in her thick, syrupy voice, "you are a natural. You are going to do so well at school. Now, show me."

I looked down at the glistening dildo, and told myself it was a real cock. It felt a little silly at first, but those wonderful warm-milk feelings were encouraging me from the inside, even as Mistress Vivienne's irresistible commands pushed me from the outside. I really did want that cock. I already knew it was going to feel so good. I focused on that -- on the growing, pulsing, throbbing desire I felt in my holes. I let that feeling guide my expressions as I looked at it.

"Oh, that's good, Jenny," Mistress Vivienne said huskily. "Yes, let your eyelids lower a little. Lips part. Let him know you're taking in his scent through your nose, but then switch to short little breaths through your mouth." I did that, and caught the scent of something strange and new. It wasn't just the rubber, or whatever the cock was made of. I realized it was whatever was making it shiny.