The New Girl Ch. 06

***The characters referenced in this story are Sixth-Formers, aged 18, or they are teachers. No character is any younger than 18***

Freya's seed is strong.

Its musky tang is there when I wake on Saturday morning, and follows me throughout the day. I'll forget it entirely, get lost in something else, and then inhale a whiff of it. That richness, that animal potency. I go so far as to lay down on my bed, under the covers -- to concentrate the smell -- and masturbate while daydreaming of her.

I'm hers, so says the musk. I am marked, the property of this daughter of billionaires, the personal plaything of this modern Amazonian princess.

On some level it's a bit, well, gross. I mean, it's cum, isn't it? It's dick-milk.

But on another level, on so many others, it's at once arousing and weirdly...affectionate? I like the idea of being hers, of belonging to her. It's so fucking kinky, sure. If I were to explain it to some third-party, I don't doubt they'd question it or even be troubled. Yet it's mine and Freya's thing. Our dynamic. It's -- at least, I hope it is -- her way of showing affection.

And God, as hot as she is, the fact that she wants me for herself just makes it far too fucking easy to bust a nut when I wank myself off.

I'm left with a dumb smile as I lay in bed that night, in that vague realm between dream and reality, fantasising about my dominant...girlfriend? It sends a rush of electricity through me, chucks me out of the easy path towards drifting away. That's who she is, isn't she?

Wow. I'm actually going out with Freya-fucking-Venyabildt.

The dumb smile manages to last all through Sunday, into Monday. A few of my closer friends remark on it, but I say nothing. I'll wait on Freya for any such call to publicise what is for the moment private.

And the smile, naturally, peaks when I see her for the first time.

I say the "first time", referring strictly to "on Monday", but...it is different. There's a novelty to it, because today she's not just this sex-friend who keeps an emotional wall up between us. Today, Freya smiles at me when she sees me.

She approaches me as I walk to my first lesson, looking resplendent in the college uniform. Her white top clings to that womanly body, large breasts impossible to hide, all the more so for her open buttons. Freya's long legs show their defined muscles as she walks, adding further fullness to already thick thighs. Her blonde hair is long and straight, eyes crystalline blues, skin bronze with that natural-seeming tan.

With sheer, almost boyish casualness, she slings an arm across my shoulders and leans in, sweet warm breath tickling my ear. Bubble-gum sweetness permeates, mixed with that girly musk I'll never forget. Her shapely body is cushioning, radiant, such a welcome weight upon my side.

'Good boy,' Freya says, sniffing at the side of my face. She is way past giving any fucks, isn't she? 'What's the stink, Tom? I want to hear you say it.'

There are people everywhere, walking in both directions along the pathway between the English and Science blocks. A whisper might as well be a shout, because someone will overhear us. And it's hardly like we're not obvious, hardly the case that our peers aren't watching intently at what might as well be a visual scream, our strange bond made undeniable by the presence of Freya's voluptuous body boldly pressed against my own.

'I...'

A pause. A pause that must only be a moment long but feels like ages. Because if I say this, whispered or not, that's it. It's out. Even if just a rumour, people will talk.

But why do I even care?

Freya is watching me, taller than I am, obscenely good-looking. Her smirk is criminal.

'I think it's semen,' I say. Not quiet, not loud, just...said. Just spoken. 'The semen of this really gorgeous futanari I keep seeing.' Freya's eyes twinkle, her cheeks faintly redden. It eggs me on. I make an almost exaggerated effort to sniff the stuff. 'It's a great smell, isn't it? I've been inhaling it all weekend, I've hardly been able to keep my hands off of my--'

Oh, yep, she's still mad strong. There's this part where the English block recedes, allowing for a concrete clearing before it juts out again. And Freya practically throws me around the corner of it -- still in full view of the passing students -- and begins eating my face. One hand pins my shoulder, the other squeezes my hip.

And all the world is her mouth, hungry and lascivious. Her sweet spit, her bubble-gum haze, her neat blonde hair dangling against my face. It all happens so quickly that I just stand still, straight as a pillar, arms at my sides. Her tongue bullies mine, her full girly lips smother my own, and then she giggles, lovely cheeks all red, as Freya pulls back from the ever so momentary snogging session.

'You're a fucking good boy,' she says, stroking my flank. 'I'll see you in Science later. We'll have lunch afterwards.'

A kiss on the cheek, a kiss on my forehead -- easy given her height -- and then she's off, leaving me blinking like an idiot. People are talking, and I don't care. I just don't give a shit. How could I ever care?

I don't know if I'd even be bothered to have Freya fuck my arse in front of them.

I'm hers. I cannot believe how much that pleases me.

Wow.

*

She sits with me in Science, the last lesson before lunch break.

People stare again. Why wouldn't they? Freya is a loner who hates everyone, who keeps her distance. But not with me. Not anymore. She sits beside me and plays this game beneath the table where she'll flick my groin without warning or jab me in the side with a sharp finger or simply settle for stroking my leg, on the inner thigh, with meandering affectionate gentleness.

Whenever there's a lull in the work, a quiet patch, a time where I ordinarily would get lost in daydreams, I'm instead fighting this overwhelming battle with the urge to stare at her face in profile. It feels guilty, almost, to just, well, stare. It's like looking at the Sun. That lovely shade of tan flesh, those shapely cheekbones, that beautiful nose, that incredibly curvaceous mouth.

Freya glances sideways, gorgeous mouth all the more so for the half-grin it makes. And when I look away, she leans in close and whispers, 'Stare all you want. I like how you look at me. The hungrier the better, you little fucking slut.'

And I resume my ocular inspection, enjoying the golden paleness of her long straight hair, the elegance of her throat, and the prettiness of those collarbones. Freya slides a hand down the front of my trousers just as I work up the courage to feast my eyes on the sensual eye candy of her perfect cleavage.

'Freya, don't.'

But she starts to stroke me. We're at the back of the class, at least -- her demand -- but even so, I'm being masturbated. I...I didn't think she'd ever touch my dick without there being some trade or whatever, and now she's just--

'Ugh.'

The train of thought derails in an instant. I bite down on my lips, but the sound escapes all the same. One of the girls on the row of desks ahead turns back and gives us a deeply uncomfortable look, her cheeks suddenly bright red. But Freya must pull a face, because she immediately turns back and ducks her head down.

'Quiet,' Freya says, speaking low and sultry into my ear. 'You're such a loud and dirty little slut, aren't you?'

I just nod, teeth dug into my lip. Shit, her skin's so soft, her fingers are so playful. Freya will tug and tug, then tickle my balls, then go back to tugging. All the while the teacher stares at their screen, and the other students chat quietly or have their heads down working.

And amidst this, in public, surrounded by others, Freya is wanking me off.

'Nice dick, by the way.' She stifles a mocking giggle. 'It would do me a disservice for my cumslut to be completely hopeless.' Freya kisses my throat, goes so far as to run her tongue up my skin. 'Besides, it'd be no fun to size-shame a cock small that anyone would think small. You're such a good little bitch, Tom.'

It says a lot about me that this positive degradation, spoken by the sweetest tongue and fullest lips, in the sultriest voice I can imagine, sends me over the edge. I know I'm going to regret this, know that the sensation of cooling semen in my boxers will bother me until it finally fucking dries, but holy shit there is something to be said for being wanked-off by the hottest girl in the world while surrounded by other people.

I grit my teeth hard and suppress all but my trembles, and a bit of forceful breathing. It necessitates that I shut my eyes, as if to focus on the one sensation allows me to corner and dispose of it, but somehow I manage. All this under Freya's devious gaze, her bright blue eyes alight with mischief and merciless joy.

Was I always such a fucking pervert or did she make me this way?

'Naughty boy,' Freya says, momentarily resting her head on my shoulder. 'You've made a real mess of my hand.'

'S-orry.'

'You can make it up to me later. I'll make sure that just by watching your gait alone, everyone will know how severely you got fucked.'

I nod along, blissful, a little dazed. Freya slowly milks the last dregs from my softening shaft and then pulls out her pretty hand, all tainted with my sperm. In the depths of this eager submission she so easily stirs in me, I've half a mind to protest. It seems to violate some law of the world that my inferior seed should grace such lovely bronze flesh.

She does something that, from psychological intensity alone, threatens to pop my top a second time, stimulus-free.

With a devious stare, attention fixed rigidly upon me, she runs out that beautiful pink tongue across the back of her palm. The pretty muscle is dirtied with my white produce, the sight of which elicits a throb in my apparently unsated cock.

I'd imagined that anything involving oral sex, and especially anything involving cum upon tongues, surely necessitates some submission on the part of the giver. Just as I'd never imagined that I'd enjoy being ravaged by thick bronze girlcock. Just as I'd never imagined that I'd relish the sensation of a heavy load spilling out upon my face. Just as I'd never imagined that I'd be sitting beside Freya Venyabildt, face all taunting and teasing, as she cleans her seed-dirtied hand with a series of progressively more sensual tongue strokes.

And if any part of me yet doubts the dominance of her stare, the powerlessness of my own role in this, Freya fixes that with a quick phrase. She leans in, breath tinged by the male stench of my semen, and says into my ear, 'Is there even any sperm in this, you little bitch? Do your balls even fucking work?'

She elbows my ribs and chuckles to herself, getting back to work and periodically lapping up another wayward bit of my jizz. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I think Freya likes it. The way she moves it about, the way she makes a show of waggling that tongue at me, revealing the last goop upon her tastebuds for a moment before chewing and swallowing.

I don't think I've ever been so aroused by something so simple.

I'm hers. Hers to tease and hers to please, and hers to fuck and hers to suck. Hers. Freya's.

I want to speak, but I don't think I can control my volume right now.

Thankfully, there's not much of the lesson remaining.

*

Freya leads me to her spot at lunch break, taking me by the hand and walking quickly.

Something comes over me, a little stupid, a little too emotional. I throw myself at her the moment we're alone, get my arms around her, and -- though it's not the intent -- rest my head against her pillowy chest. She smells so good, is so warm and comfortable.

But then Freya clears her throat. I lift my head, meet her half-smile, her amused eyes.

'Are you going to be a clingy little bitch now that we're serious?' she says. 'Because that'll get really annoying, really fast.'

There's a pang of anxiety, a worry that I'll be too much. 'Sorry, it's just--'

I pull backwards but she holds me in place. 'I'm just fucking with you, you idiot.' Freya kisses my forehead, smells my hair. 'You do realise it comes with the territory, yeah? Little bottom bitch that you are.' She strokes my back, nuzzles my head. 'Sit down, okay? I made extra today, if you want some.'

I'm smiling nervously as I sit myself against the red brick wall, where not so long ago Freya sat alone. She sets herself down against me, leg to leg, arm to arm, and starts unpacking her lunch. It's impressive, the size of it. A varied selection of sushi, the little rolls and the pieces of fish upon rice, and slivers of fish by themselves, alongside a couple of containers that look like soy sauce, pale slices of ginger, and what I imagine is wasabi.

Then she hands me a container, much smaller than the one which produced the spread laid out before her, containing a shrunk-down quantity of the same selection and three smaller jars of the condiments.

'For you,' Freya says. 'Because I fucking hate sharing food.'

In my giddiness, to have my beautiful futanari dominatrix go to such lengths, I stuff one of the little rolls into my mouth before thanking her or checking first what exactly the ordinary custom is with eating sushi. The rice is perfect, the fish salty and delicious, a faint fire of wasabi present somewhere in the mixture, almost non-existent.

'Mhm-hm.'

The tall blonde raises a neat eyebrow at me, halfway into retrieving two pairs of chopsticks from her bag. 'I knew you'd you like it,' she says. 'There's two big loads of my sperm in yours.'

I stop chewing and look to her, not quite sure of what I'm going to find. To be tricked into eating jizz is one thing, but for it to be hers...

Freya bursts into laughter, and messes up my hair with a hand. 'Your fucking face. "Do I smile or do I spit?" God, you're such a funny boy, Tom.' She leans in, kisses the side of my head. 'There's no cum in them. You have to earn that, remember?'

I nod, chew a little, and swallow. 'It's really good, man. Who made it?'

'I did,' Freya says, rolling her chopsticks together. With sublime dexterity she gets them in a hold and fetches up a piece of greyish fish, dipping it in her soy sauce. The wolfish way she eats is attractive, but then at this point I'm worried that she could stab me and I'd somehow find beauty in it. 'Have you had sushi before?'

I shake my head. 'No. My family don't really eat, uh, exotic things.'

'Being poor must suck.' She picks up a roll with her fingers, dips it in the soy sauce for a moment, and devours it between those perfect lips. 'In the nice way. Not judging.'

'It's cool. I suppose everyone seems poor to you, right?'

She shrugs her shoulders. 'I never really think about it. The dick thing is more of a worry than being too bratty with my inheritance.'

'Not with me.'

Freya kisses my head again. 'Cutie.' Her face hovers, and she prods me with the rear tips of her chopsticks. 'Want me to show you how to use these?'

But my thought is something else. Somewhere slutty and submissive and lovestruck.

'I really like being your property,' I say, some subconscious urge, what I wanted to say in science, spilling out of my mouth. Freya guffaws, falls silent.

Oh, shit. Stupid. Too soon, or too eager, or too pathetic, or--

'You mean it?' she says.

'Yeah. So long as...so long as it's just me, and just you.'

She uses her chopsticks to fetch up a piece of fish of mine, dips it in my sauce, and brings it up to my lips. 'Eat.'

The fish is good, the soy sauce adding to it. While I chew, Freya loops her arm over my shoulders, and rests her head atop mine. 'It's just us,' she says, and my heart soars. 'I'm going to be really mean to you, I'm going to absolutely rail you, I'm going to turn you into the most obedient little cumslut I can imagine -- and my mind is a filthy fucking gutter -- but...there won't be anyone else.' The way she rubs her face against my hair makes me smile dumbly as I chew away. 'Not that I imagine boys like you come around so often.'

I swallow, and say, 'Why me?'

'For starters, you actually accept me for who I am,' Freya says. She tussles my hair, and adds, 'Plus, you realise you're actually pretty good looking, right? Among other things?'

'Yeah, but you're...'

'I'm what?'

'The hottest girl in the world.'

She giggles, the slightest, sweetest thing. 'With a fourteen-inch dick, and balls that could knock you out.'

'A beautiful dick. Beautiful balls.'

'Holy shit,' Freya says. 'If there was cum in those rolls, you'd have guzzled them down.'

'So long as it's your sperm, I'll take as much as you're willing to give.'

The blonde Amazonian chuckles and leans against me, her weight welcome but obvious, big girl that she is in muscles and height and figure. She hooks her arm around my throat and kisses my head repeatedly, still laughing a little, still in the throes of what was completely not a joke.

'You mean it, don't you? Look at me.' Freya pulls back a little and she urges me to shift my head, to look upon her grinning countenance. God, she's so gorgeous. Even with a little bit of seaweed stuck between her front teeth, I can't imagine someone prettier. 'You are so fucking cute, you know that?'

'I'm being serious, man.'

'I know you are,' she says, stroking my chin with lovely fingers. 'Do you wanna skip English with me?'

'Uh...I'm not going to get bailed out if I get in trouble, Freya.'

'I'll handle that, okay? Persephone can talk to Grandma if needs be.'

'What...what were you thinking?'

She licks her lips. 'Well, I was going to destroy you on Street Fighter on Friday, but I didn't expect you to be so eager. And you did behave yourself over the weekend.'

'Meaning what?'

'Finish eating,' Freya says. 'Then we'll find a quiet spot. I'm going to teach you how to suck out that sperm you're so desperate to guzzle, you little fucking slut.'

She starts eating again, watching my face with salacious joy. I'm left smiling, a little nervous, a lot excited. When I try the chopsticks, Freya takes hold of my hands and starts guiding me. It's harder than it should be, because I keep peeking at her skirt.

I keep imagining the amazing things hiding underneath it.

*

After lunch Freya leads me to the PE block.

She goes to Mrs Maxwell's office and has a few brief words, prompting the teacher to tremble on the spot and to vacate her private room without so much as a panicked look. The once-so-tough PE teacher is completely different, in the wake of the situation with Coach Bulger. Funny how little I care about that now. I guess the brain does a good job at pushing away trauma and hurt, however brief or intense.

Or maybe I'm just lucky. Or...or maybe I've got Freya.

She locks the door behind us and kisses my head, then sits herself down on Mrs Maxwell's chair behind the desk. Freya slips her bag off and smiles at me with familiar lustiness, parting her legs in readiness. Without a word I go to her and drop to my knees, and she chuckles to herself.

'What?' I say.

So often now that person I first met isn't present anymore. That Freya would never have blushed so openly, never have grinned so stupidly, never have reached down and mussed up my hair with the most affectionate of gestures.

'Just you,' she says, in that wondrous voice. 'Just how fucking eager you are.'

I cock my head at her. 'Shouldn't I be?'

Freya does nothing, says nothing, as I lean in close and kiss her inner thigh. Such smooth skin, such beautiful flesh, warm against my mouth. Bubble-gum sweetness on the nose and something else, something funkier, something carnal. Her skirt rests on her lap, halfway down her thighs, and I can just about make out her bulging lacy white panties beneath the shade it casts.

'You do all the right things,' she says, stroking behind my ear. 'Say all the right words.'