School Daze Forever Ch. 05

One other girl I hadn't met yet also got herself sorted a little faster than the rest of us, and she started helping out a few girls around her. My blonde hair wasn't as long as Lily's jet-black mane, but it still posed something of a challenge. Mary-Beth eventually came around and helped me.

"Thank you, Mary-Beth," I said.

"Any time, Jenny," she replied from behind me. "College girls help each other." She fussed with my head covering for a few moments, making sure there were no stray hairs outside of it or caught right on the edge of the fabric -- especially not near my exposed ears. That would have been torture -- the wrong kind, as it would turn out.

The fabric itself felt unlike anything I'd ever touched before. It wasn't unpleasant or uncomfortable, but I could tell it wasn't cotton, silk, polyester, or wool. Using my new college-girl smarts, I concluded that something else was going on with it.

Soon enough, we were all wrapped up, snug as bugs in rugs, looking a little bit silly, but also still quite pretty. The challenge gear was virtually skin tight, except for some slight padding from the special bra and panties. There was no mistaking the white silhouettes of two dozen fit, healthy college girls, plus a gorgeous Mistress wearing more traditional yoga attire. Mistress Dani's own rich, coppery hair was bound up with a collection of braids and hair ties, hinting at its true length. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had gone down to her waist.

"Follow me into the studio, girls," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," came a much tighter chorus. We fell into a loose double file and let her lead the way. We were her white yoga ducklings.

The big studio had twenty-four mats already laid out, and each one had plenty of room around it. The space was softly lit -- neither green nor blue, yet -- and crisp, fresh air circulated freely throughout. I could hear a faint hint of New Age music in the background. Mistress Dani had a dedicated space at the de facto head of the studio, elevated so that all of us would be able to see her whole body. There was an altar-like table behind her, something that looked like a side-facing lectern to her left, and two smaller tables closer to either wall, each sporting an artsy round bauble. The setup made her seem more like a priestess than an instructor, though I supposed those two roles weren't mutually exclusive. She pressed a button on one of the small side tables, and a warm, green glow began to emanate from both balls. The light wasn't enough to change the overall ambiance of the room, but when I glanced at it, I felt some stirrings inside of me. A few moments later, I smelled a tantalizing blend of sandalwood and vanilla, plus some zesty, citrusy notes on top that I couldn't quite place.

Mistress Dani then directed our attention to a big board on one of the side walls. It had all of our names on it, and doubled as a map showing us which mat was ours. A brief tingle on my ankles -- those ingenious invisible tattoos at work again -- confirmed I'd found the right spot.

When we were all situated, Mistress Dani took her spot on her own, larger mat, and expertly drew our attention with just her body language and inner stillness.

"Namaste, class," she said, gently folding her hands in front of her and offering us a small bow with just her head.

"Namaste, Mistress," we echoed back to her. I didn't know what it meant, but that didn't worry me.

Mistress Dani smiled serenely. "Very good, class. Since this is your very first university class, I have the privilege of telling you a little bit more about our guiding philosophy. Today, you will undertake Challenge Yoga, but yoga -- and discipline -- are not the only things you'll be learning. If you pay attention, you'll begin learning deep truths about the Mistresses or Masters you will one day work for -- and even about the human creature, more generally. Here is one such truth: sexual fantasy can be any combination of art and science.

"Right here, right now, in this class, in this very moment, be mindful of the fantasy. Would true yoga masters scoff at this setup -- at this pomp and circumstance, this incense, this music, and even how I'm speaking to you right now? Perhaps. If a true yoga master is to be your employer, you will learn as much science as you need to to serve, please, and obey them properly. For now, soak up the art of it all -- the art which is partly artifice, where sex is the thing itself. This is a green class, after all, my beautiful girls."

The room's lights turned green. I became acutely, sexually aware of the teasers in my pussy and ass. The ones nestled up against my nipples were still merely interesting, but I knew that was going to change. The smells from the incense took on a new dimension. Before, they'd merely been alluring; with everything in the room tinged green, they became powerful aphrodisiacs.

Mistress Dani's smile shifted imperceptibly -- or my own mindset shifted my perception of it. "Challenge Yoga," she said. "The obvious challenge is to follow my voice and my movements. That challenge is taken on in good faith, because all of you want to be good girls for your instructor Mistress. The other challenge is more interesting. Your suits are about to provide you with an abundance of sexual stimulation; it will start off mild, then increase in intensity as the class continues. Each of you is allowed exactly one orgasm during class. You can have it whenever you like. The longer you wait, the stronger it will be. After it's finished, though, you'll be expected to resume the yoga session, and your special challenge gear will begin the stimulation progression over again."

She pointed up at the board. My eyes followed her finger, and I saw a green light next to each of our names. "When you cum, the light turns off. If you cum again, you get a red light, and then another, and so on. Red lights get punished at the end of class. Smaller failures to participate -- likely due to all of that sexual stimulation -- won't net you a punishment right away. Never enough Mistresses, you see. I need to keep the class going. I imagine a lot of you will be getting extra discipline spanks tonight or tomorrow morning, though. We hardly expect you to be experts right away. You're here to learn."

I turned my head back towards Mistress Dani. "Let us begin," she said. "Good luck." That time, I was quite sure her smile had gotten a little naughty for a split second.

My suit came alive. My mouth opened of its own accord, and I took in a quick breath of the pheromone-infused air. The nipple teasers proved themselves to be devilishly clever, offering licks, sucks, and tickles -- both by turns and in every combination. The clit teaser wasn't as dexterous, but it did its job expertly. The ones in my pussy and ass revealed that they weren't just dead lumps of silicone; they vibrated, though they didn't thrust or swell. I wondered if those limitations were part and parcel to the confusing divide between preparation and fucking that Mommy had talked about earlier. The fabric that covered almost my entire body, meanwhile, was a true marvel of science; I was being stimulated everywhere it touched. If I'd been a sexual prisoner with half a dozen wardens torturing me, I'm not sure they could've done so much to my horny body all at once.

I closed my eyes and immediately tried to imagine powerful blue light. It definitely helped, but the stimulation, mild as it was, was as relentless as it was global. Only my mouth, throat, face, and part of my head were spared. I was even feeling teasing hints around my ears, and through my hair into my scalp.

"Oh no, no, no, girls," Mistress Dani said. "Eyes open. You're only allowed to close them when you're cumming, then right back open. Visualization is not today's challenge."

I opened my eyes again, taking in the full measure of the green light. I breathed deeply through my nose, having momentarily forgotten about the incense's new power. I released a small moan, disappointed by my thoughtlessness, but already getting too horny to dwell on it.

"Eyes on me," Mistress Dani said. "We're going to start with something easy: cat pose into cow pose..."

Twenty-three other white-clad girls endured exquisite sexual torture all around me, but I could barely even focus on Mistress Dani. Her own beauty and grace only added to my torment. I wanted to be a good girl for her, but I was so horny; I wanted to serve her sexually, and I wanted her to fuck me. A feverish idea popped into my head: she'd stretch me. That's what she does. She'd bend me into a sexual pretzel and stretch out my holes like they've never been stretched before.

The poses started off with animal names, and all of them sparked little fantasies inside of my feverishly horny head. During cat pose, I wanted to be Mistress Vivienne's sex pet, complete with ears, paws, a cute new nose, painted-on whiskers, and a tail. During cow pose, I wanted to be a milk cow for the college, taken care of all day by Mistresses, and by more advanced students like Fumiko. Downward dog reminded me of Clover, the puppy-girl from town whom I'd wanted to be, love, fuck, and get fucked by, all at the same time.

My body was my best friend and worst enemy. It was healthy, strong, resilient, and bendy. The yoga itself would have been wonderful exercise, and I felt like I was already pretty good at it. The persistent, steadily-increasing stimulation from my challenge gear, though, was driving me insane. The incense was playing its part, too, as was the show Mistress Dani was putting on up front. My body was primed to respond to it all.

I was too far gone for clever thoughts, but, with the benefit of hindsight, I can point out now how strange it is to love something so much, yet be tortured by it while receiving it in abundance. I hear stories about people without special college educations who enjoy having sex even if they can't cum. That simply wasn't my reality, and especially not under the green lights. My body could cum like crazy. With permission from a Mistress or Master, it could cum itself to death. The fulfillment of the threshold desire -- sexual stimulation -- was a road that invariably led to that other desire. Only the college had the power to halt or divert me.

Vainly, I tried the same technique from the day before. I'm a bad girl for wanting to cum so much, I told myself. Mistress Dani wants me to do a good job with the yoga. If I'm distracted, and don't do as good a job, I'm bad.

It did absolutely nothing. I arched my back in the cobra pose, eyes going towards the ceiling. It was fully mirrored; there was no escape from sexy sights, including my own stretching body. 'Donkey note,' I thought. Right. I'm a donkey note. I'm a stupid donkey note who can't focus. Mistress Dani wants me to be a good girl, not a donkey note.

I felt smart for a split second, remembering the day's code phrase, but that feeling evaporated. The code phrase changed nothing. My inner milk didn't curdle. I didn't feel like a bad girl at all. I hadn't cum yet, and I was allowed to. I wasn't really breaking any rules.

Time lost all meaning. Our torture was forever. Girls climaxed, one by one, and they weren't shy about it. Most of them collapsed out of their poses unless it was one of the very easy ones. Every single orgasm I heard or saw was a bellows blast into my own furnace. It was a fresh temptation to take that one bite of the golden fruit I was allowed -- that one sip of ambrosia.

During plank pose, I heard Lily cry out her release from somewhere in the room. That was my trigger. I gave up, and started to collapse onto my air-soft yoga mat before my orgasm even hit me.

All the torture turned into brilliantly scientific sexual service. I came hard around my twin teasers, and I swore my nipples jumped and spasmed. My entire nervous system pulsed with pleasure. I came with my fingers, toes, and scalp just as surely as I came with my clitty, titties, pussy, and even ass. My eyelids flickered, turning the room's green light into a strobe. I sucked the incense in through my nose like it was water and I was dying of thirst. It sent a glorious dry heat into my sinuses and up into my brain, adding another dimension to my endlessly vibrating climax. I flopped like a fish on my yoga mat, and, just like all the other girls had, I loudly advertised that I'd succumbed. I couldn't help it; the suit was overloading me, even though the stimulation had reset back to its lowest level. It never stopped. My fun places never got a break.

Finally, my healthy body made gains against the giant orgasm I'd just had, and the fresh wave of sexual sensations the suit was inflicting upon it. The warm milk inside of me started to prod; I wasn't allowed to completely slack off on the yoga part of Challenge Yoga. I gathered myself and glanced at the board. There were no green lights left. I felt a pang of sympathy for a few girls -- whose names I couldn't even focus on -- because I saw three or four red lights. I looked back to Mistress Dani, who seemed entirely unperturbed by her yoga class falling apart, girl by girl, in front of her. She had complete faith we'd pick ourselves back up and keep going. I looked at her pose, and moved to copy it. I didn't know the name. I'd missed that.

Once you lose your sense of time, you never really get it back until something or someone helps you. You might regain a more accurate sense of it passing, but you have no anchor point. It was like that for me for the remainder of the class. The suit kept stimulating me more and more; the incense was its compatriot, and by then, it had flooded the entire room, even as I felt the air continuing to circulate. The green hue was relentless; it even seemed more green. I honestly didn't know what I was going to do.

Finally, the milk inside of my body began to curdle slightly in warning. I wasn't allowed to cum again. I was in actual danger of being a bad girl -- a donkey note.

"Emerge from child pose," Mistress Dani said, "and enter corpse pose. There are no movements. Watch me briefly, then take the position."

Twenty-four girls lay on their backs, trying to be still. I sensed the end was near. My body was shaking. There was nothing left to focus on except the light, the incense, and the suit. The milk inside my body was fighting a losing battle. The suit was too clever. The sensations were too strong. I just knew I was going to be a donkey note. It was going to happen any second.

A voice cried out in defeat and orgasm. I recognized it; it was Annabelle. My eyes flicked to the board, and I saw a red light come on next to one that had already been there. I checked the name. It was hers. Selfishly, I tried to focus on how awful it must have felt for her to disobey not once, but twice. She was a college girl, like me; college girls loved and supported each other. I was exploiting a loophole by trying to use my sympathy to discipline myself. It felt wrong, but disobeying would have felt worse.

Mistress Dani didn't say a word about it. She just let us lie there, suffering our pleasure, until she decided it was time to end the session.

"And up," she said, and gave us plenty of time to try to obey. I had no idea what movements would be less stimulating; I was sure I looked the fool, but I managed to get upright without cumming.

"Namaste, class," she said, folding her hands and bowing again.

Our replies were scattered, plaintive, and shaky, but we managed. The room's lights turned blue. The incense baubles shut off. My suit went dormant. My insane arousal retreated to hidden places, promising me it would return with a terrible vengeance. I almost cried from relief nevertheless.

I scanned the board. Annabelle was at two red lights; three other girls I hadn't officially met each had one. One of those was Olivia, from our dorm.

"Olivia, Jacqueline, and Penny," Mistress Dani called out, "join me at the front. Everyone else, either stay standing, or you take a seat on your mats. Keep your attention to the front."

"Yes, Mistress," came the chorus, including from my own mouth. It was much calmer and more synchronized than the last.

The first three condemned souls walked up the small steps surrounding the rectangular raised platform. Mistress Dani assembled them in a rough line, facing the rest of the class. I saw their misery on their faces. I knew their milk was curdling. I hoped Mistress Dani would be quick about letting them earn forgiveness.

Mistress never broke character, but she did utter the words. "Olivia, donkey note. Jacqueline, donkey note. Penny, donkey note. You each came once without permission."

Their faces twisted up. They were downright sick. The girl I figured was Jacqueline -- in the middle -- clutched at her tiny ribcage below her contained titties.

"Unfasten your bottoms," Mistress Dani said, "then lower them, and your panties, down to your ankles. Be gentle with yourselves getting those teasers out, but be efficient."

"Yes, Mistress," they said, and all three complied. In the blue light, their half-nakedness was simply a fact, as was the beauty of their smooth skin and fit bodies. Their fraught emotional states were what held my attention. I felt bad for them, but I had faith in the college. They'd already taken one step back towards the good path.

"Turn around, approach the table, and assume the position, all in a line."

"Yes, Mistress." They complied once again, exposing their naked asses to their Mistress and to all of us.

Mistress Dani walked to a cupboard at the farthest end of the room. From it, she retrieved a medium-sized brown paddle with two lines of round holes, and a jar of some kind. Returning to the altar-like table, she put down the paddle, opened the jar, set it down, then retrieved the paddle again.

She paused for a moment, then looked out to the rest of the class. "Annabelle," she said. "Come up here."

"Yes, Mistress," she replied. Her voice was despondent and shaky, but I also heard the desperate need to obey. She approached Mistress Dani, trying to maintain good posture, but failing. Mistress Dani handed her the open jar.

"Once I've delivered the punishment spanks to a girl," she said, "you will wait one minute, then apply this soothing cream to the affected area."

"Yes, Mistress," she replied, still miserable, but ready to accept any task she was given.

"Five spanks," Mistress Dani announced. "Count out and apologize. If you do that correctly, you're a good girl again."

"Yes, Mistress," three voices rang out. I heard hope rise in all of them.

From left to right she went, and, as with her voice, her body language never shifted from that serene, centered, enlightened role she was playing. Olivia was first. Her plump, flared, coffee-and-cream ass tensed and quivered with both kinds of anticipation. She feared the pain, but needed the forgiveness it would bring.

Mistress Dani used only one arm to swing the paddle back and then forwards again, making square contact with Olivia's whole ass. The smacking sound was strangely dull. Olivia's cry was anything but.

"AUGH! ONE! I'M SORRY, MISTRESS!" She had to shout just to get the words out.

"Sorry for what, Olivia?" Mistress Dani asked calmly.

"I'm sorry for cumming without permission," the poor girl choked out.

"That's right, Olivia," Mistress Dani said. "That's how you apologize."

She swung back again, and again, she spared Olivia nothing.

"Augh! Two! I'm sorry for cumming without permission, Mistress!"

I felt my inner conflict permeating the room. Our hearts went out to our sister for the pain she was feeling, but we all knew it was necessary. We all stood or sat as statues. Whatever I saw of the other girls was only due to my position. I kept my focus squarely on the scene playing out.