School Daze Forever Ch. 06

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.

kenjisato also very graciously edited the prior chapter, but due to an oversight on the part of the author, proper accreditation was not prepended.

******

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.

So, after all of that sex, it's finally time to talk about what really matters to college girls: academic fundamentals!

... Should I try to keep the joke going a little longer? Or should I confess that it's not actually a joke? Some college girls pick majors that demand specialization. Others, though, need to be well-rounded. Who knows what a Mistress or Master will want or need? They might want somebody who's a really good cook, not just a great lay. They might want somebody who's fun to talk to in between awesome sex sessions. The list goes on and on like that. College girls learn how to serve, please, and obey. All three of those divine commandments, if you think about it, depend in part on knowing and understanding things -- and those things can be anything!

With very few exceptions, though, knowing and understanding sex is at the top of the list.

After taking a quick restroom break, Lily and I arrived at Sexual Anatomy, our second class ever. We got our temporary panties, slipped them on, and walked into a college classroom straight out of a movie.

We sat next to each other, of course. Around us, I noticed quite a few of the girls from Challenge Yoga. With a few more glances, I saw that the class was comprised of exactly the same twenty-four girls. That made me curious as to the fates of the four girls who'd received powerful punishment spanks at the end of that class. I saw that Olivia, Jacqueline, and Penny, who'd all gotten five apiece, were slightly elevated in their regular seats. I could see something that looked like a futuristic, neon-blue gel cushion underneath Jacqueline's tiny butt. Annabelle, who'd endured ten, was standing at a special desk off to one side. Her roommate, Mary-Beth, was seated in a regular chair right next her, at the end of the row. I was quite pleased that the college possessed such foresight, and very happy that all my classmates were still on the same page: once disciplined or punished, we were all good girls again. There was no more shame, and no need to ostracize. We'd all do our best and try our hardest, and we'd support each other along the way.

At the front of the class stood a professorial Mistress; she was a short, black woman with striking white hair tied up in a smart bun. Before I even had a chance to appreciate her outfit, she pressed a button on her lectern, and the lights started turning blue. Thoughts of a stern, sexy head librarian pulling me into a soundproof back room and spanking all the rulebreaking noises out of me evaporated -- and she was most definitely a 'one warning only' kind of woman. Instead, I merely appreciated how put-together she looked in her smart formal wear. Her stern, black, thick-rimmed glasses were almost certainly decorative, but they were on point.

Over the span of a few moments, the lights got really blue -- as blue as I'd ever seen them. They burned the sex right out of me. It felt fine. It felt reasonable, logical, and sensible. I noticed the change in the entire class. There was no more flirting, period -- no furtive glances, no wandering hands, no giggles, and no lingering smells of arousal. The air was crisp and cool -- so much so that it was a bit heady. All the girls retrieved their laptops from their backpacks and set them up.

"Good morning, class," the unnamed Mistress intoned. Her voice was loud and clear, and also emanated from speakers around the room. I detected the hint of a British accent. It didn't even occur to me whether I would've found it sexy under different circumstances. The blue light had burned away even the urge to study my desires from afar.

"Good morning, Mistress," we all replied, practically in unison.

"I'm Mistress Claudia, and I'll be your Sexual Anatomy professor this semester. As the term progresses, this class will transition from more blue to more green. Why? Because good college girls pay very close attention, and remember everything they're taught. What remains after that is to practice, practice, practice. Are you good college girls?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She smiled sharply, conveying that she almost believed us, but would require proof. "Plug your laptops into the classroom's dedicated network. You'll see a power connector and an ethernet cable. There we go. Now I can keep an eye on your machines. Open up your pre-downloaded application entitled 'Interactive Anatomical Maps,' found in this class's subdirectory. Your dorm Mistresses should have given you the overview of the main directory structure."

"Yes, Mistress."

Mommy C had indeed gone over all of that with us, so in another minute, I was ready to learn -- and learn I did! That first class focused almost exclusively on male genitalia, which made sense, but Mistress Claudia assured us that we'd be covering almost every major system in the male and female bodies. That made sense to me, too; I'd already learned that sex could encompass any and every part of the body.

Even without the handy clock down at the right corner of my laptop, I would've been able to gauge how far along the class was; the blue light remained as strong as ever, but the lecture eventually veered towards the practical. Discussions of nerve maps, blood flow, and classic erogenous zones all raised the obvious question of how best to stimulate them, and that question was answered in great detail by our supremely capable instructor Mistress. One thing she impressed repeatedly, however, was that every "default human" had their own quirks. That's what we were starting with; later, we were going to learn more about what made college girls, college boys, and college sissies unique.

"'Plans are useless, but planning is essential,'" Mistress Claudia said wryly. "I'd add, 'No plan survives contact with the enemy,' but of course the bodies you'll be serving are not your enemies. They are your best friends. They are your reason for being. Still, the default human bodies you encounter will present challenges just as surely as they'll present opportunities. You must learn to plan, when to change or abandon your plans, and when and how to improvise. Your acting and psychology classes will cover much the same ground from different angles. Here, you'll be focusing on the nuts and bolts, so to speak. In future semesters, you'll be combining and synthesizing more of what you will have learned.

"Well," she amended, "speaking of those nuts, not literally 'here.' Everyone gather your things. We're headed next door."

"Yes, Mistress," we replied, and did as she commanded. With great efficiency, we followed her to what I assumed was going to be the green part of the class.

The room next door reminded me of the Cum Lunch cafeteria. The major differences were that the twenty-four dummies were arranged in four rows of six, were all in the same standing position, and didn't have tubes coming out of them. I reasoned that our practice session was going to be cum-free. We deposited our backpacks on wall hooks, then waited for our instructions. The lights were still blue. It was interesting seeing all those dummies -- with extremely realistic cocks, balls, and pubic patches attached -- without feeling a single trace of sexual arousal.

"Name map on the right wall, girls," Mistress Claudia said. "Find your Master. Tingles will confirm. Unless you have a relevant predeclared major, his attributes are going to be random. Your assignment today will be to work on fundamentals. I'll hardly call the requisite variations to technique 'improvisation' this time around. Today it's cock, balls, taint, anus, and prostate. I'll be generous just this once and remind you not to dive headlong into ass play. Some of your dummies love it; some hate it; some need to be eased into it.

"Good responses and bad responses will be mostly obvious, but if you make a serious mistake, a yellow light will flash. If you do it again, or if you're particularly reckless, that's a red light. This is not 'Challenge Blowjobs,' however, girls. I do not expect to see any red lights, and if I do, I will be extremely displeased. A green flash indicates an orgasm. Today, I only expect a few of those -- mostly from the girls who lucked into a Master that likes a good prostate massage."

All of us dutifully checked the board, then found our Master. The tattoos on my face tingled, confirming I was face to face with the correct one. The dummy's face was quite detailed, actually, but its creators didn't try to push it all the way towards realism. It was a mildly cartoonish version of a normal, hum-drum, thirty-something face, complete with some light stubble.

My mouth twitched in a smirk. Something about the blue light let me appreciate the college's subtle humor right away: no tingles on the wrists, back, or ankles just then -- just on the face, which was about to get a workout. I'd missed that little joke the day prior at Cum Lunch.

"On your knees, girls," Mistress Claudia commanded.

"Yes, Mistress," came the well-organized reply from all of us, and we sank down onto the provided pillows, which were loosely attached to the dummies via a cord.

"And, begin," she said, then began her rounds, up, down, and across the rows. Her professional pumps made dull clacks on the deceptively soft floor. It occurred to me I might use them to sense where she was, but I also knew that dividing my focus would have been a very bad idea. I had a 'Master' to serve.

The light never turned green. I shrugged, but otherwise didn't question it. What followed was the most curious almost-sex of my short college career. With nary a sexual feeling in my body -- not even from the anal plug still inside of me -- I went to work applying what I'd just learned during the lecture, plus a few introductory rituals that Mistress Vivienne had taught me in private, prior to my initiation. I made sure to make noises occasionally, too. I didn't know if the dummies were designed to respond to them, but I wanted to do a good job for Mistress Claudia.

My dummy sported a small, limp, uncircumcised, peach-colored noodle surrounded by coarse, curly, light-brown hair. Its balls hung down a bit, with one dangling much lower than the other. The sack had hair, too. In fact, the dummy had body hair pretty much everywhere; it was far more realistic in that way than the one I'd been paired with for my first Cum Lunch.

I tried my best to treat the dummy like a real person. I kissed it gently, looked up at its unmoving brown eyes, and showed it that I loved its cock and very much wanted it. I rubbed its hairy thighs, gave its sack feather touches along the seam with a fingertip, then began tickling it with all of my fingertips as I teased the little cock's covered head with my tongue.

I was mildly surprised to discover the dummy cock had a flavor. I could easily imagine that it was the taste of flesh, plus a hint of musk.

"Not bad, Jenny," I heard Mistress Claudia say above and behind me. "If the cock is flaccid, that does imply the need for some encouragement and foreplay. Vocals are good, though don't get maudlin right away. Feel free to experiment with stronger touches on the thighs, ass cheeks, and whatnot, too. If you don't get a good response to those from the cock and balls, you can file that information away and pivot."

"Tha-" I began, but she immediately shushed me.

"Focus completely on your Master," she said. "It's okay. You didn't know. That goes for everyone. Focus on your Master. Listen to me, of course, but there's no need to reply until the exercise is done."

The pointed silence was ripe for a joke response, but no one dared. The room was soon filled with the sounds of good little college girls giving blowjobs to realistic cocks attached to fairly realistic dummies, complete with sighs, moans, hums, and the occasional gagging noise. The other girls had taken to heart the advice directed towards me; they were smart like that. I began to hear mechanical sounds coming from inside of my dummy; they coincided with the first signs of life from the replica cock and balls.

As we practiced, Mistress Claudia's voice rang out from various places:

"Ah, see, Annabelle, he's shy back there, but not wholly averse. Try an ass massage, or maybe some tickles. Pressure on the taint to stimulate the prostate can get some men curious about more direct stimulation later.

"Very nice, Remy. You'll do well in your acting classes, I think. I almost believe you're drunk on that cock.

"Ah, an interesting challenge, Catherine. He's older and out of shape. You're going to have to convince him to take those fingers up his ass somehow, or learn how to vacuum-suck the dusty cum out of him.

"Very clever, Lena! Panties down around the knees; that is quite the sexy sight when your Master looks down.

"Yes, Lily, it's very big, and very black. Keep him interested with all your tricks while you warm up your lips and jaw. You're a college girl; it's going to be much easier for you than for a girl your size without that advantage."

Underneath the blue light, I was able to laser focus on my task without getting distracted by the odd background noises, or even by the sound of Lily's name. I was pushed forward by my desire to obey Mistress Claudia and the college, but also a desire to be genuinely good at something. I'd never had that, I didn't think. I'd only been an official college girl for a little over a day, but I'd already gotten it into my head that sex was something I could be really good at, if only I put in the work. I could make people happy. I could impress them, and make them proud. I could be valued; I could contribute.

Those feelings weren't sexual -- or at least they didn't have to be. I knew that I'd be able to experience them even under the bluest of lights. I knew that sexual feelings, up to and including orgasms, didn't fully define my capacity for contentment and joy. That knowledge, itself, felt good. It made me feel more complete as a person.

As time went on, I heard a few scattered dings, and saw brief flashes of green light in my periphery. I stayed focused on my own dummy, though, aside from Mistress Claudia's occasional words of wisdom. My panties were down around my knees for that very reason, and I was trying hard to look intoxicated by my dummy's cock, especially when I looked up into its eyes from time to time.

"Okay, class," Mistress Claudia said, "that's time. I'm quite pleased to announce no red lights, and a minimum of yellow lights. The green lights more or less tracked with my expectations as well. All in all, I would call that a most satisfactory first class. You were all good girls for me today."

"Thank you, Mistress," we replied. The shudder of pleasure I felt was faintly echoed in the other girls' voices.

I hadn't managed to get a green light, but then again, my dummy had been wholly opposed to getting fingers up its ass. I'd teased, licked, kissed, and sucked its little cock -- not so little, actually, once it had firmed up -- and its tightening balls, too, but I just hadn't managed to push it over the edge. I was a tad disappointed, but Mistress Claudia seemed satisfied. That was good enough for me.

"Stand up," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," we all replied, and did. I was grateful yet again for my healthy, bendy, college-girl body. I wasn't stiff or sore at all, despite having just spent twenty or so minutes on my knees.

"From the left, columns one, three, and five, find the girl to your left. It's not rocket science. There we go. That's your partner. Since you were all such good girls, allow me to give you a sneak preview of both your acting and psychology classes. Your assignment for the rest of class is to have sexy fun with your partner to turn your Masters on without touching them -- and no, the cocks and balls won't be responding. Bit over budget for an intro class, that. Use your imaginations; they're powerful sexual tools.

"There are exceptions to every rule, of course," she continued. "Some men don't like their partner paying attention to anyone else, ever, and some hold objections to all same-sex activity. That being said, it's a solid gamble."

Music faded in; it had a solid beat and strong bass. I neutrally recognized that it was good music for dancing, which logically meant it was good for stripping and fucking, too.

"That's another little lesson," Mistress Claudia said, reading my mind -- maybe all our minds -- at once. "You'll be learning more about that in your dance classes, more so than your music ones."

I was in the fourth column; my partner turned out to be Catherine, the self-described 'schedule slut' I'd officially met for the first time in the group shower after Challenge Yoga. She was a taller, slender girl with a long, delicate neck and beyond-soft shoulders. Her wavy, medium-length hair was a rich, voluminous chocolate blend, offsetting her pale skin and bright, hazel eyes. She wore a flimsy, white cropped tank top and a low-cut pastel-orange skirt that went see-through halfway down its meager length. It showed off her belly button and plenty of smooth skin below it. Her soft, innocent features belied the dirty talk I'd heard pour out of her as she'd ground her smooth pussy down into her roommate's luscious mouth back in the showers.

She was pretty. She was fine. I already loved her like a friend and a sister, but there, in the blue light, her allure was a collection of facts -- ratios, proportions, symmetry, and the statistical indicators of youth, health, femininity, and even arousal.

We came together awkwardly; I was reenacting every movement I'd made under other kinds of light, and I think she was doing the same. We'd never done the dance with each other before, though, so all our mismatches seemed insurmountable for a moment or two.

"Hey, Jenny," she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, like she was worried she might spook me. The smile on her rich, dark-red lips was much the same. Her eyes searched mine for guidance or permission. I tried to give it, but I sympathized with her plight. All I could see in hers was her uncertainty and concern, and I wasn't sure I was communicating any better.

"Hey, Cat," I replied. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "We should move this along. We're on a tight schedule, you know. It's time to act sexy for our Masters."

She chuckled and found my ear. "I love you, Jenny," she said. "You're smart and you're fun. We should hang out sometime."

"We'll set an exact date and time," I replied, "and if you're late, you'll have to be punished." Then I moved my head around so it was closer to our dummies. I found her earlobe there and started nibbling on it. Catherine giggled and squirmed; I didn't know if she was faking it or not.

"Lower," she said. "My neck. I love it there. Little kisses, little nibbles, little licks."

It was the strangest thing; she was telling me something true about herself. I knew it. Under the blue light, though, it wasn't going to do anything for her. Did that make it a lie?

I did as she asked, and she tilted her head up to give me full access. Together, we rotated slightly so that our dummies could see -- or, rather, could have seen -- my lips, tongue, and teeth work on her. I let my hands wander over her body; she did the same to mine. I focused on the rhythm of the music around us; I looped my arms lazily around her neck, and her hands came to rest on my hips. I moved away from her neck so we could see each other. We shared a look of understanding, and started to dance in place. I had no idea what to do, but it seemed good enough to just sway lightly.