Subclasses Ch. 19

Author's note:

This is another chapter where the appendix was less than the required 750 words for a separate Literotica story, so the appendix has been placed at the end of this chapter. If you want to know what's about to happen to Sarah before it happens, scroll down when you get to the appendix reference (possibly navigating to the last page of the story), then scroll back up.

Chapter Nineteen

Sunday morning finds us driving back to Western.

We'd spent yesterday hanging out: some with Bex and Rita, and some just the three of us being girls. Gabi did her laundry, and, jumping on the opportunity of free appliances, Bea and I teleported our dirty clothes to us and washed them, too.

Although hesitant at first, on Saturday afternoon, Gabi consented to letting Bea add a monitor to her mind that will let her know how subby or dominant Gabi is feeling whenever the three of us are having sex. "That way, when I plan a scene, I can plan two options: one where you co-domme, and one where you co-sub," Bea had explained, "and then when we play it out, I can put you in the role that you'd enjoy at the time."

Gabi puts some music through the Bluetooth stereo, and she and Bea start singing along. I've always been uncomfortable with my singing voice--initially due to its masculinity, and now in my feminine form, from lack of practice--so I don't join in; secretly, I wish I could.

Bea notices my silence. "What's up?" she asks.

"Nothing. I'm just self-conscious about my singing, is all."

"Sarah no longer feels self-conscious about her singing."

I feel the anxiety vanish, but the artificial nature of the change puts me off; I still don't join in.

"Sarah, please sing with us," Beatrix 'requests'.

I add my voice to the music immediately, and within a minute, I am glad that she compelled me. Once more, Beatrix proves that she intuits what I want as well or better than I know it, myself. Gratitude wells up in me as I consider that. I am so lucky we found each other.

* * *

Beatrix pulls the car into a spot in the C parking lot a short walk from FX; there's very little parking on North campus. She Speaks our laundry to our respective dorm rooms, but insists we carry our duffle bags in by hand lest anyone find it suspicious.

After unloading our stuff in Gabi's and my dorm room, Gabi changes from her winter weather clothes into some loungewear--skin-tight, aqua yoga pants and a comfortable tank top with a mesmerizing low-cut neckline.

I head to the restroom to relieve myself after the long drive.

I return to find both of my girlfriends giggling together. "What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing," Gabi giggles conspicuouslyinnocently.

Beatrix gives her a disbelieving look, then turns back to me. "Nothing Gabi has said or done since leaving the room or will say or do for the next five minutes seems conspicuous to you. You don't remember me Speaking this command."

"When's your next exam?" Gabi asks.

"Wednesday," I reply to the innocuous question. "My 3pm chemistry class."

"Excellent," she says in a deep timbre, tapping her fingertips together in an all too benign gesture.

Gabi boots up the Switch and opens Mario Kart. Beatrix shuts the door, then returns and grabs a controller. We pick our racers and start a race. I'm the first to finish lap one, with Gabi hot on my tail. Beatrix is a distant fifth.

"Gabi's Start button doesn't work. Sarah, please eat Gabi out," Bea says with casual inflection.

Dismayed but utterly helpless to resist, I drop my controller, shuffle in front of Gabi on my knees, and start to pull her pants down. She shrieks playfully and, by instinct, tries to pause the game, which, of course, Bea has just disabled. I revel in my futile struggle against my mental bindings as Gabi squirms, trying to prevent her yoga pants and powder blue cotton panties from being removed while still focusing on the race. "Pause the game, cheater!" she shouts at Beatrix to no avail. Within twenty seconds, my compulsory persistence overwhelms her efforts to keep her pants on. I shove my face between her legs and start licking up her tangy, sweet cleft, my nose pressed firmly into the hairless, pillowy skin above it. Gabi shudders at the pleasurable touch--as do I at the feel against my face of that shudder running down her body--but redoubles her focus on the game. Her movements slow and her squeals die off.

"Sarah, please make her cum."

My fingers join the mix, and Gabi's involuntary quivering starts anew. When my oral and digital ministrations fall short against the might of her competitive focus, I pull back from her. I snap my fingers and think, Dick. Seconds later, I grab Gabi by her thighs--eliciting another squeal--lift the curvy girl up with adrenaline strength, twist us around, and, as I take my seat in her chair, lower her onto my newly reformed, hardened penis. Ever the tryhard, Gabi uses her legs to spin the chair around so she can see the TV while I gyrate my hips against her, sliding myself in and out. I hear the race end, but considering Gabi is still playing, I assume Bea has won. Ten seconds later, Gabi at last fails to contain her arousal and screams out in bliss. Half a second after that, I hear the race-ending sound again as Gabi finishes lap three. She falls forward across my shoulders and drops her controller, defeated twice in the span of a second.

"Good girl," I hear Mistress say to me in her British clipped training tone. "Now finish."

The tension in my body doubles in an instant, and with my next thrust, I cum, filling Gabi with salty giddiness. She lets out another moan, this one more contented than aroused. I begin my respiratory recovery with my brown goddess of a roommate straddling me. Neither of us move to pull me out of her, even as I soften and shrink.

Gabi twists her neck to look at Beatrix. With all the Southern drawl she can muster, she says, "I've never known anyone to go to such lengths as you to win a race. You're a true inspiration, Trixy. Bless your heart."

Undaunted by the backhanded compliment, I hear Beatrix begin her Competitive Monster victory dance. "Kiss my ass," I hear her say. It's a command, not a rebuke. Gabi playfully yet obediently reaches over reaches over me--squishing her exposed, heavenly cleavage to my face--for Bea's hips and gives her butt a quick kiss. "Oh, my subby little Gabs, that was my butt cheek. I said 'kiss my ass.'" I feel two jolts of energy--one excited, one vexed--consume Gabi as she presses against my body, positively vibrating with the unwanted need to obey. Holding onto Bea's hips, she pulls the swivel chair around so Bea is to its side. I twist my head just in time to see Gabi faceplant into the shadowed crevice between Bea's perfectly contoured porcelain cheeks. She spreads our mistress's butt with her fingers, and, from Beatrix's sudden moan, I know when lips meet rim.

Disenchanted supernaturally, Gabi starts to pull away. "Lick until I cum." Gabi reverses direction, re-enchanted conventionally by Beatrix's inexorable command. Pinned to the chair as I am, I endure my first stint as a voyeur with a mix of frustrated desperation and thought-draining allure. I feel myself begin to harden again inside of Gabi. It doesn't take her long to finish Beatrix. I know Bea had been building her own orgasm since the moment she shut our door, anticipating and then reveling in our helplessness to resist her dominance--that of both her supernatural ability and her domme persona.

Meanwhile, the movement of Gabi's face and tongue against Beatrix from the unanchored leverage of the swivel chair causes Gabi's body to rise up and down against me in the tiniest increments, rubbing my dick inside her just the wrong amount to be arousingly uncomfortable. As soon as Bea cums, absolving Gabi of her self-actualized compulsion, she turns to me and finishes us both off again with a couple enthusiastic thrusts. I feel myself spill into her once more with a satisfying, endorphin-saturated rush up both our bodies.

Whether it's the hormonal concoction marinating my brain, the post-coital dehydration, my synesthesia, or some mixture of the three, I feel the contented sensation of twinkling stars in and around me.

Beatrix magicks us, naked, to Gabi's bottom bunk, Bea on her back in the middle, with the two of us draped across her to either side, a succubus cradling her thralls. "You're not done yet," Bea whispers. There's no clear intent, no direction in her words, but I feel myself ache to pleasure her. Gabi clearly feels it, too, as she starts to move.

"Yes, Mistress," I breathe heavily into Beatrix's ear. That earns me a shudder and I shiver in response to the autonomic praise.

Gabi begins humping Beatrix's side, and I find myself doing the same. While Gabi massages her breasts, I rub my leg up between Bea's thighs, and she moans at the touch. My fingers follow and start rubbing her clit. Gabi reaches down and starts pumping fingers into her. In short order, the two of us have Beatrix chasing another orgasm. She catches it, and with her climactic arch, the three of us turn to jello, breathing hard, limp and sweaty on Gabi's mattress.

I feel Bea's hand in my hair, stroking my head in a loving manner. "You two make such wonderful pets," she says.

To my surprise, I hear Gabi placidly say, "Thank you, Mistress," at the same time I do.

"Good girls."

I melt.

Gabi - is - a pet.

* * *

Monday and Tuesday pass quickly. I spend Monday evening working with Beatrix to develop her command framework. I text Gabi to tell her I'm spending the night in Bea's bed. She responds with a curse for not warning her before some of my stuff vanished from our room. As I fall to sleep holding my girlfriend spooned in front of me, I marvel once again at how perfectly our bodies fit together.

Tuesday after dinner, Beatrix heads back to her room to do some homework. Gabi and I spend some time getting to know each other as girlfriends rather than just roommates and bedfellows. That's not to say we didn't have sex. We did. It was gentle and intimate and magical as anything ever could be. Gabi's a fun, hot, and exciting--a Miami spring break bottled into a single perky Southern Belle--but rather than arousal, tonight I feel my fondness and affection for her blossom, both before and after sex.

I ache to tell her that I love her, but I'm not sure that it's true, and I'm even less sure she'd want to hear me say it yet. We fall to sleep in each other's arms, my top bunk serving less and less purpose these days.

Wednesday afternoon, I head from linear algebra to chem. It takes nearly the whole ten minutes, despite the relative proximity of Bond Hall and the Chemistry Building. My friends and I have a running joke that, due to its cramped hallways and absurdly slow elevator, Bond Hall is ten minutes from everywhere, including Bond Hall.

I sit down and mentally prepare to earn between an A- and a B on the exam. I'm one of those odd ducks that enjoys taking tests. It's me versus the professor with memory and intellect as the weapons of choice. Lots of people stress over test-taking. I thrive on it, even on tests in which I'm not aiming for an A--something I had done my entire K-12 career. I'm not especially interested in chemistry. I enjoy it as a science, and find it fascinating, but I'm nowhere near passionate about it. I don't find it intuitive, and it doesn't directly pertain to my planned career in software development, so I've relaxed my self-imposed requirement since high school; I don't mind only pushing myself for only a B, which is to say, not pushing myself at all beyond daily notetaking.

Class starts and the tests are passed out. I know the answer to the first question and fill it in. I know the answer to the sec--

I feel a tap on my left shoulder. I turn and to my utter shock, it's Beatrix. She's wearing a button down blood red blouse two sizes too small for her ample breasts with the top three buttons undone over a tight, black leather skirt. At the pure-sex sight of her, I feel myself get wet; when she bends toward me, her magnificent cleavage on full display, were I an anime character, my nose would start to bleed.

Another tap on my right shoulder. Naturally, it's Gabi. She's wearing a skin-tight shiny black vinyl catsuit--clearly sans bra, as her erect nipples poke visible impressions into the garment--complete with cat-ear headband and black cat-eye cosmetic glasses. She bends down--with another mouth-watering view of her cleavage--to whisper breathily in my ear, "Hey, Babes. Mind if we join you for your exam?" I nearly unspool then and there as the warm breath stimulates my erogenous zone.

My mind reels but quickly concludes that they are hallucinations sent by Beatrix to torment me. I don't respond to "Gabi's" question. The illusions take seats to either side of me. Who knows what they would have done if I had been sitting next to other students; the 150-seat auditorium is more than half full.

I try to concentrate on the exam, filling in as many answers as I can. Bea stands and places herself in front of me, bending seductively over my desk. Tits or test? Tits or test? My eyes have trouble deciding. Gabi reaches below my desk, lifts the front of my flared blue skirt, and rubs my inner thighs, slowly sliding her hands inward toward my panties. So. Tactile hallucinations. Wonderful. I swallow a moan.

Beatrix begins unbuttoning her shirt with one hand and lifts my head by the chin with the other, forcing me to behold her erotic display. After she finished the second button, her boobs spill out of her blouse, hanging tantalizingly within easy and inviting reach. So immersive is the hallucination that my mind has trouble comprehending how no one else is as distracted as I am. She leans forward so her tits press into my face, blocking my view of the paper on the desk in front of me. Resisting my libido, I push her back by the shoulder with my left hand so I can conceivably continue my test. Only, her body doesn't give. I can touch the hallucination but it's immovable. I'm in trouble.

I try to dip my head down around her cleavage--mercifully and inexplicably, her breasts do move at my touch--and manage to read the next question on the exam. I write down what I suspect is an unintelligible answer, but it's the best I can do.

Gabi pulls down my panties, or at least gives me the sensation of it. Part of me knows, somehow, that my panties are still in place, even though I feel them around my ankles. Her hand moves in again to start toying with my lips.

And suddenly, they're gone. I sigh in relief, and quickly jot down as many answers as possible, trying to make up for lost time.

My reprieve lasts only five minutes before the girls return exactly where they had been before vanishing. I hear the vinyl of Gabi's catsuit crinkle against itself as I feel her press her fingers into me. Bea sidles around to my side again and sticks a warm, wet tongue in my ear. I can't resist shuddering, and at least one student turns to look at me for a second before returning to his test.

Another two minutes of frustration followed by five minutes of decreasingly competent test taking. The pattern continues until 10:50 when the class ends. I endure Bea's strip tease, culminating with her naked ass pressed to my face; I resist the urge to lick the illusory pink wet pussy pressed to my lips. Gabi torments me with a full on lap dance, impossibly fitting between me and my desk, my mind warping reality for her to fit. Her warm, tender weight against me is intoxicating and I nearly kiss the side of her neck before catching myself.

I turn in what I know is at best a C+. My panties are sodden and saturated, quite possibly soaked through. I rush from the lecture hall to the bathroom so I can use the mirror to see if there's a dark spot on my skirt. There is. It's small, but it's noticeable. Not knowing what else to do, I twist the skirt, which thankfully has no obvious front and back, so that the spot is on my hip rather than my ass.

Beatrix's image appears beside me and whispers in my ear, "Please leave the cum spot where it was." Ugh. How did she even know? I think as I twist the skirt back. "I want people to know you were turned on." In my masculine form, I think it's more likely people will think I pissed myself or sat in something, but I don't have a choice, regardless. I can't decide whether I'm frustrated or submissively pleased that Bea is forcing this embarrassment on me. What I am, however, is miffed that I likely got a C on a test when I was counting on a B. My academic performance has always, for better or worse, been a point of self-pride. Getting a C will harm my self-esteem, even though I know I would have done better if not for my girlfriend. Or girlfriends? Given that Gabi was included in the hallucination, I have the sneaking suspicion that my señorita was in on this.

Before Bea's image disappears, she tosses one last requirement on me. "Please swing your hips and butt back and forth seductively as you walk." I notice with immediate alarm and overwhelming arousal that she specified no end date; this single sentence could very well alter the rest of my life.

Simultaneously humiliated and turned on, I head--with the gait of a model on a catwalk--to my chemistry lab.

* * *

With an unnatural, albeit admittedly fun and autoerotic, sway of my hips, I walk into the VU dining room with a tray of food and take my usual spot next to Bea.

"Why, don't you look sexy," she says with genuine appreciation as I sit down, despite my more masculine form's less than curvy physique.

I blush furiously at the comment, and find myself unable to speak. As far as I know, there's nothing supernatural going on; I'm just flustered, uncomfortable yet aroused by my new stride. I know that once I adjust to it, I will feel more attractive, but right now, I just feel awkward and silly, yet compelled, which turns me on like a stimulating itch that's out of my reach.

"Nothing to say?" she chides gently. "That's okay, Pet. Your blush says enough." She's silent for a moment while I take a bite of my sandwich. "Oh! I have an ide--"

"Wait," I interrupt, at last finding my voice.

"Pity," she pouts. "It was a good one, too."

"And I look forward to it," I reassure her. "But right now, I need to talk about what happened during my exam." I'm not usually this assertive, and Beatrix appears alarmed at my demeanor. I relent, trying to put her at ease. "It was hot--really hot--but it came at the expense of my GPA. My academic performance is important to me, Bea. I thought you understood that."

Bea looks shaken. "You're right. I did. I'm sorry, Love. I got carried away."

I nod my forgiveness. "Apology accepted.

"Now, I just have to know, how did you know I was going to shift my skirt in the bathroom to hide the cum spot?"

"I didn't!" she giggles. "I was watching, and when I saw you do it, I decided to ... intervene, as I promised a couple weeks ago." Her expression is proud.

"You were watching?" I ask. "How?"

She gives me a look like it's obvious. "Babe, if I can make a mirror show you any angle you want, is it really so far-fetched that I can spy on you?"

My face drains. "You can spy on anyone you want, whenever you want?"

"No, of course not! I can spy on you because I have your general consent to play with you however I want. Is--" she stutters, suddenly unsure, "is that okay?"

I think about it. "I don't know. It feels like a breach of privacy, but it's not like I have anything to hide from you. I think it just shocked me, is all." She exhales in relief. "Now that I know you do it, though, I think I'm going to temporarily withdraw my consent from time to time for things I might want to hide from you. Surprises and such."