School Daze Forever Ch. 02

Special thanks to kenjisato, a generous volunteer in Literotica.com's Volunteer Editors program, for editing this piece. All remaining errors and questionable stylistic choices are the sole responsibility of the author.

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My name's Jenny and I'm twenty. I like the little rhyme; it makes me smile. I think I have a birthday coming up soon, but I'll have to check with the Mistresses.

My life before college is mostly a blur, but I do remember bits of pieces from that summer before my first semester. With the help of Mistress Vivienne, my new life came into focus over the course of several months, accompanied by a prettier, happier, more studious me. By Orientation Day, my mind was fully prepared for what lay ahead. I knew I would remember everything clearly unless the college didn't want me to. Whatever they didn't want me to remember, I'd simply forget.

The very first thing I remember about that day is waking up in bed, naked and plugged, with Mistress Vivienne gently asserting her control over me as the big spoon. I think it was the first time I'd woken up to someone in the same bed as me, and it instantly filled me with a host of good feelings. I felt safe, loved, and assured that everything was going to be okay. Even though I didn't know exactly what life had in store for me next, I knew the college had a plan for me, and that all I had to do was follow it.

I squirmed, sighed, and stretched. Mistress Vivienne's hands started moving across my body, paying special attention to my perky college-girl titties.

"Good morning, Jenny," she said. "How did you sleep?" I could hear the dominant love in her voice. I could also feel her nipples brushing up against my back. They were a little wet. I got hungry.

"So well, Mistress," I replied. "Thank you so much for being with me. It makes me happy."

"I rather enjoy it, too," she replied. "Oh, I wish we could stay in this bed all day, Jenny. You are a treasure. But today is a very big day, and we've got lots to do! Let's get you fed."

I let her hands guide me to our new position. She lay mostly on her back, propped up just a little, and had me curl into her side. Once I'd latched on and begun to suckle, she grasped my wrist and guided my hand towards her sex.

"Pet me, like I pet you," she whispered. "No need for anything fancy."

Her pussy was soft and wet; the tips and pads of my fingers glided over it. Even amidst the sublime pleasures of Mistress' breast, nipple, and warm milk, I could feel tiny thrills traveling up each of my digits, then my arms, and then towards my many other fun places. I felt another good feeling, too: I was pleasing my Mistress. That was a wave washing over me. It made me sigh into her breast and relax into her body -- which, like mine, had been properly educated to experience all manner of emotional and sexual delights that overlapped, commingled, and swirled about like playful water. Our bodies were moving around like water itself, mine guided by hers. Together, we were slowly, subtly, sensually dancing right there on the bed.

"You should always thank your dorm Mistresses for feeding you," she said dreamily. "Don't you worry, though; they'll tell you exactly how to do it. Mmmm, oh, that's good, Jenny. I remember when I was a dorm Mistress for a year: one college girl suckling, the other licking my pussy or my asshole, and then they'd switch... oh, you're going to love college, Jenny."

She had to stop talking, then, because she came. It was gentle and easy, but I could tell right away; I knew it had started in her breast, helped along by my stroking fingers. The warm milk inside of me -- even the delicious stuff pouring into my mouth and down my throat at that very moment -- told me I'd done a wonderful thing.

"Good girl, Jenny," she said, and it sent a new wave of pleasure over and through me. Milk and my Mistress agreed I was good. Everything was perfect.

Mistress Vivienne let me ease the pressure in both her breasts; by the end of my feeding, I was blissed out of my mind on her warm milk, her pleasure, her praise, and the feeling of her fingers running through my pretty blonde hair. When she took me over her knee for my morning spanks, all I really felt was the ripple effect on my anal plug, plus more sublime, submissive satisfaction. She didn't make me count out loud; she knew I was too far gone. I just had to thank her once at the end, and I did.

It was only six light spanks. It wasn't a punishment; it was barely even discipline. She was more interested in stroking and massaging me -- both my butt and my back. Still, we were on a schedule, so, with a sigh, she kept the morning moving by withdrawing my plug. That, I felt. The stretching woke me back up a little. Once it was out, I felt very empty.

Mistress knew, and soothed me right away. "You're unplugged because I want you to be unplugged," she said. "Our next stop is the bathroom, and then the shower. After that, we'll get you dressed up again for your big day."

Just like that, I felt fine.

After I got up off her lap, I followed her into the bathroom, enjoying the sight of her swaying hips and flexing ass. I sat and did my business on the toilet under her supervision, locking eyes with her and expressing absolute trust during my vulnerable moment. She returned a strong, reassuring gaze that briefly flickered with lust. I felt completely at her mercy, yet safe from everything else in the whole world. It was a strange kind of naughty fun that reminded me a lot of being over her knee.

We're taught at the college to be circumspect about certain things unless a Mistress or Master tells us otherwise. Let's say that, ever since I'd started drinking that delicious milk, the physical acts involved in using the toilet had become a breeze -- even a minor delight, or a pair of them.

After I was done with all that, Mistress Vivienne led me into the large, modern shower. That was a very fun place, too.

"On your knees, Jenny," she said.

I dropped down and looked up at her. Her beautiful body lorded over mine; her bright blue eyes shone down wickedly.

"I know you're not really mine, Jenny," she said. "You belong to the college. Let's call this an advanced lesson -- a sneak pee...k. Some Masters and Mistresses like to mark their little girls. Some girls even like it so much they do it with other girls sometimes. For your first time, you can close your eyes, but open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Submit to me. Accept my claim."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I obeyed her commands, and felt her moving closer. After a few moments, hot liquid struck my face, my lips, and my tongue. My taste buds lit up with sharp tang, the zip of salt, and also a thick, familiar sweetness. Far more important, though, was what my nerves and my bloodstream -- so full of warm milk they were practically made of the stuff -- were telling me about the experience: it was good and right, and I was a good little girl for submitting to it. I knew, deep inside, that if Mistress Vivienne hadn't told me we were just having a lesson, I would've sunken ever further into the blissful state of being owned. I was a little disappointed I didn't get to feel that, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that she worked for the college, and I was a student there. That felt good, and I felt smart for having put those pieces together on my own.

"Good girl, Jenny," she said, sending more pleasure my way. Her voice was thick with lust. "You accepted my mark like a good little bitch. Now, up. Let's wash each other up before your next lesson."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress." I stood up and opened my eyes. I saw hers, and knew she wanted to fuck me. She had to shake off some of that desire before she turned around and got the water running. I jumped a bit from the momentary chill; water shot out of all kinds of jets from all sorts of angles. The water heated up fast, though, and soon we were in a little sauna, soaping each other up and getting squeaky clean. Mistress Vivienne's lust never abated, but it mixed together with care and pride.

She washed and massaged me, and encouraged me to do the same for her. "Nice and soft like that with the cloth," she said, "but when it's just your hands, you can knead into me -- well, everywhere except my breasts. Be a little more careful with those."

I did as she asked, and was rewarded with moans and groans. Mistress Vivienne's happiness traveled through my hands, and even the steamy air, and into me. By the time we were done washing each other, though, my own need was becoming difficult to ignore. I hadn't cum once since I'd woken up, and Mistress had been teasing me an awful lot.

"On your knees again," she said firmly; if she recognized my plight, she was choosing to ignore it.

I dropped down without even thinking about it. She turned the water down so it was merely misting, not shooting everywhere. After that, she turned and loomed over me again, offering up the sexy, dominant sight of her pussy, then her breasts, and then her face above me.

"I'm going to turn around and brace myself," she said. "You're going to find my asshole with that pretty little mouth of yours, and you're going to make out with it like it's your true love on your wedding night. You can use your hands to spread and massage my ass while you do it. Give me the full treatment."

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mistress." My asshole and pussy twitched, the former still a little sad it didn't have the firm plug pushing back against it. My titties, nipples, and lips throbbed. My mouth was already starting to water. I'd never done much of anything with anyone's asshole -- not even my own. So far, it had all been done to me. I knew how good that attention felt, though, so I was certain that I was going to be giving Mistress Vivienne lots of pleasure. I wanted to. Serving her sexually, at her command, was a shortcut to my new holy trinity: serving, pleasing, and obeying. Of course, it also made me hornier and hornier as I did it.

With one final, knowing smile, she took her position, moving her feet back a little from the shower wall and spreading her legs. The view was exquisite. I moved in close, grasped her cheeks with my hands, and slowly revealed my prize. Her asshole was puffy near the center, but I could still see the puckering lines all around that prominent ring. It was just shade darker than her flawless olive skin, and that darkness extended to about where those hints of lines ended.

"What do you think, Jenny?" Mistress Vivienne said above me.

"It's beautiful, Mistress," I answered.

The truth of that reply was more in my blood and my nerves than anywhere else. The sight of it made me want to move in closer, and so I did. It made me want to kiss it and taste it, and so I did that, too. My lips and tongue tingled -- the reward of sexual servitude that would become familiar, but never dull. As they lit up, so too did every other fun part of my body. Soon, I was following my Mistress' florid command as best I could, pouring out my passion onto her throbbing, twitching portal. Mistress Vivienne's happy huffs and sighs only made me want to please her more intensely.

"French me," she heaved. Her body was moving again, like waves. I began putting pressure on the puffy, spit-soaked bullseye. I kneaded her ass cheeks and pulled; she held firm, and so my face was pushed inward, my cute little nose squishing against the space between her asshole and tailbone. I undulated my tongue, getting into a rhythm, but pushing more and more insistently over time.

When my tongue popped in, Mistress Vivienne let out a groan that I felt everywhere, all at once. I was so happy, so submissive, and so horny all at the same time. I was bouncing on my own legs; my body humped my pussy and clit against the humid air. I French-kissed her beautiful asshole like I wanted to taste its tonsils.

"Fuck!" she groaned out, her aggression mounting. "Oh, fuck! You naughty little bitch! Worship your fucking queen, you fucking toilet slut! Wiggle that tongue, bitch! Make me cum from just my asshole!"

I lost myself to my frenzied service; I had no other tricks up my sleeve, so I just ramped up the intensity of everything I was doing. I massaged her taut, bubbly ass faster and harder, and sucked for all I was worth, trying to draw her puffy ring further into my mouth so that I could drive my spasming tongue ever-deeper into her hot rear passage. She was delicious; if I'd been more in my right mind, that would've surprised me.

She came with a growl, then silence. I felt the spasms; the first one snapped at my tongue like a turtle. After that, they tickled. I witnessed another glorious, full-bodied orgasm that I was sure only a college girl or graduate could have. It felt like it lasted forever, probably because I was dying to cum myself. While her orgasm did send another wave of emotional pleasure crashing over me, I still hadn't learned how to orgasm sympathetically. I never once slowed down my ministrations, though; she hadn't told me to. It wasn't a great distraction from my aching need, but it was the best one I had.

"Good girl, Jenny," Mistress Vivienne finally said. "You did a good job. Take a little break. I need another minute, myself."

I withdrew and backed away, remaining on my knees. Her praise was still sublime, but it was amplifying my need even more. I caught my breath and stretched my jaw. My body still wanted to move -- to squeeze, and to hump. I didn't know whether to try to stop myself or not. I didn't know what would help, besides finally getting to cum.

Mistress Vivienne turned around. I looked up at her. Her bright blue eyes were more sedate. Her smile was sympathetic.

"Up, Jenny," she said. "Find a shower wall and assume the position. Hands spread, legs spread, down a bit."

I got up, turned around, and followed my new orders. I couldn't stop gyrating my hips. I wanted to be filled. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to be manhandled, kissed, licked, bitten, and anything else that might lead to sexual release.

"You can't cum," Mistress Vivienne said. "You have to wait until orientation. Let's see if we can do anything to help you get there in one piece."

I felt her approach. She started rubbing my wet back with one hand. "Shhhhh," she said. "Calm yourself, Jenny. Slow, deep, regular breaths. Keep your eyes open. Focus on the colors."

I couldn't see much besides the wall, but as I waited, I did see the change. Everything took on a bluish tint. The hot milk inside of me became simply warm again. It rewarded my compliance with easy, nonsexual pleasure.

"That's right," Mistress Vivienne said. "Blue isn't bad. It's just calming. It helps you focus. Blue is for when you need to be a regular student, instead of a sexy one. Oh, I do so prefer green, Jenny, but let's get you to that ceremony."

"Thank you, Mistress," I replied. I could already feel the desperate need receding. I knew it wasn't going to go away completely; the blue light wasn't intense enough. I steadied myself and focused on Mistress' hand.

"Oh, don't thank me quite yet," she said. "Keep holding still."

I didn't have time to think before the jet of icy water hit my pussy and my bum.

"OH!"

I tried so hard to be good, but my knees bent as I pushed my legs together. My feet did a quick, tortured dance, limited by my desperate attempt to keep my arms, hands, and head where they were.

Mistress Vivienne's hand was off my back in an instant. "Bad girl!" she said. "Back in position!"

The milk inside me churned at the dreaded words. Suddenly, all I could feel was a sick, desperate, overwhelming need to obey. The shock of the cold water having worn off, I scrambled to get my feet and legs right again.

"Better," Mistress Vivienne said. "Four swats, and you're a good girl again. Count and apologize."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. I heard the tremor in my own voice. I needed the bad feeling to go away. It was curdled milk slowly sliding everywhere inside of me. I would do anything. I would let anything be done to me.

The swats hurt; Mistress Vivienne used a little bit of the strength I'd always known she had. One, two, three, and then four they came down, alternating between my cheeks. They kept stinging a little afterwards.

"Four! I'm sorry, Mistress!" I exclaimed after the final one.

The icy water departed. The blue tinge faded from the shower. I could still feel the horniness inside of me, but it was buried by the remnants of that awful feeling, tucked away somewhere in my core.

"Turn around and accept your Mistress, Jenny."

I shuffled my feet forward and pushed off the wall. I turned, feeling small and ashamed. I probably lost two inches from hunching, but I walked forwards into Mistress Vivienne's open arms.

"Shhhh," she said, wrapping those arms around me. "All is forgiven. You took your punishment like a good little girl. You're my good little girl again."

My milky insides were purified in an instant. I melted into my Mistress. "Thank you, Mistress," I said. I was still shivering, but my body was telling me that it was fine, and would pass. "Thank you so much. I want to be good for you all the time."

She kissed my head and gave my vulnerable, naked body a squeeze. "Everyone makes mistakes, Jenny," she said. "We need to feel a little bad so we learn. Take your punishments, obey your Mistresses and Masters, and you'll feel good again in no time. We love you. The college loves you. It only wants what's best for you."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. I believed every word. I believed them with all my warm, milky heart.

We left the shower, dried off, and then returned to the bedroom. She retrieved the checkup rod, which I saw for the first time; it was smooth, shiny chrome, with just the hint of a tapered bulb at each end. It actually looked fairly thin; it hadn't felt that way in my bum. Mistress Vivienne sat down at the edge of the bed, and I crawled over her lap.

"Do you need some blue light, Jenny?" she asked. Her voice was gentle and caring again; I truly believed I'd been completely absolved of my sin.

"No, Mistress," I answered. "Just... no green, please."

I felt her chuckle above and below me. "Okay, dear," she said. "Relax and submit. Surrender your ass to me. Good little college girls get checked every day."

I gave a little nod into the pillow, then felt the cool, slick metal enter me. I did exactly what she'd said, and everything felt right. She held it inside of me, pushing a little, but not really fucking me. Her lap got warm again; my smarter, college-girl self realized that she was enjoying what she was doing. That made me happy.

"So," she asked, "how did you like getting marked, Jenny? Take a moment to think. I want an honest answer."

Mistress told me to think, so I did. I replayed the event in my mind. It made me start to feel horny again, and even more submissive than I already did. There was something else, too. It used to be a bad feeling when I was a dumb, lazy girl who'd barely graduated high school and played on her stupid phone all day. It wasn't anymore, but I supposed it used to be called 'embarrassment' or 'humiliation.' I didn't know what to call the good version of it. I did know that I was feeling it a lot, though usually not by itself. It was all mixed up in our ritual on the toilet, whenever I was over her knee, and even a little when I'd been collared and leashed the previous day. I didn't feel it so much just from being naked with her, though. We'd developed an intimate relationship that had left that boundary far behind.

"I really liked it, Mistress," I answered honestly. "I like being claimed. I like the idea that somebody owns me. That means they love me -- and that means they'll take care of me."

Mistress's free hand stroked all the way from my neck to my calves. She soothed me and tickled me at the same time. I felt her heat up even more; her breathing got deeper, too.