The Slutification of Susan

From there, it was but a short step to being naughty in the fitting rooms during shopping trips. Our activities quickly progressed--I couldn't see any point in wasting time. As Suzie paid oral tribute to my boobs, I took her free hand and inserted it down the front of my pants. Whispering directions while she sucked on my tits, I got her to gently, sensuously, stroke and poke--running her finger up and down my furrow, dipping into my vagina at the bottom of each sweep, and swirling my clit at the top--stimulating the flow of pussy-juice. Interestingly, I think it was as exciting for Suzie as it was for me; but just to make sure, I had her, sometimes, finger herself while she worshiped my breasts, so that, in any given fitting room, she was stirring up nectar randomly in my bush or hers.

Of course, our outings to the shops also included shopping. Initially, I encouraged Suzie to purchase more trendy clothes, along with skimpy underwear, for both of us, but, increasingly, the items that I chose for Suzie were tartish, becoming, eventually, downright slutty. We, at my insistence, didn't even look at price tags. When she meekly complained about depleting her trust fund too quickly, I scoffed.

"Budgets are just bourgeois nonsense. Live for today! Tomorrow we may be dead." Then, I forbade her from ever again mentioning the word 'budget' in my presence. So, bustling her into a fitting room, with armloads of merchandise, I would subdue her grumbling by twiddling her erogenous zones. Getting her near-naked and pulling her arousal toward crisis, I would bring her just short of crescendo, then stop, demanding that she arouse me. How I love to play games with her!

Indeed, I find Suzie truly delightful, but, I delight, not so much in her touch, as in the fact that she thrills over my touch. I just love her responsiveness. Of course, there's more to it than that. She has rapidly become my favourite disciple, because of the way she hangs on my every word; does my every bidding.

SUSAN

Susan began think of fitting-rooms as torture chambers--as wonderful as that torture might be--for she was often, perhaps even usually, left hanging on the edge of a climax--their fiddling cut short either by suspicious staff or by Dicta, herself.

When in a change room or fitting room, Dicta loved having Susan suck her tits, though, she, herself, seldom touched Susan's breasts--never sucked nor licked them. She would only occasionally grace them with a glancing flip of her hand, or a pinch of her nipples if they were conspicuously erect through her clothing. From time to time, Dicta would direct Susan to flick her own, bring them to a more engorged state. Then, generally, she would take that hand and slide it down her own pants. Susan didn't need to be told what to do, and would immediately begin fiddling Dicta's pussy, and swirling her love button.

While Susan stayed busy at her chest and puss, Dicta would often reach into the front of Susan's pants and strum her labia--fiddling her clit to bring her unmercifully close to climax before pulling her hand free. If she were feeling especially mean, she would instruct Susan to take over, fiddling herself with one hand, while continuing to lave attention on Dicta's breasts with her tongue and lips and her other hand, telling her to keep her twat on the edge--simmering, without cumming; indeed, forbidding her to climax, then arbitrarily halting all activity--at random, or on the completion of her own orgasm.

Inevitably, one day, Dicta's change-room, pre-work-out arousal was interrupted by a cell call coming in. She lifted Suzie's hand from her own pussy and, replacing her own, placed it on Suzie's. "You finish yourself off while I deal with this," then added, deceptively casually, pushing Susan mouth off her chest, "and don't stop till you get there. Get 'er done before I finish with this call." Susan's fingers went to work on herself automatically--one hand at her cunt, the other at her nipples. Her mind was a-whirl. If she were going to climax before Dicta hung up, she was going to have to focus. She could feel stirrings between her legs as her awareness zoomed in to Dicta's lips at her cell phone. Susan's world went quiet, as she concentrated on the sensually moving mouth--a charged glow grew within her, as her fingers accelerated, flicking and twiddling her labia and clitoris. Time slowed down, and she read Dicta's lips as she concluded her conversation: "Okay, then. 'Bye."

Susan's orgasm suddenly detonated, exploding fully formed, encompassing her very being. Her flesh flushed with searing heat, her muscles rippled and shook, her joints turned to jelly, her breathing became ragged, her nerve endings crackled and sparked. Teetering precariously in her crouch, she had to bite her lips to stifle her cry. Pulling her hands off herself, she grasped Dicta's knees to remain upright.

Dicta laughed, "You look like you've already had a workout," then, taking her by the hand she towed Suzie onto the gym floor, barely allowing her time to pull her clothes up into some semblance of decent.

That was a first for Suzie--taking herself all the way--in public, no less. However, more and more, in subsequent semi-private sessions, Dicta would insist on getting Suzie to climax first, her reasoning being, "When you're done, you can concentrate on me without the distraction of your own impending orgasm." Of course, as often as not, she would leave Suzie hanging, or not even bother with her arousal.

Susan quickly became familiar with masturbation--sometimes mutual, sometimes solo, but, for her, it was never a private activity. Dicta had, more than once, prohibited her from masturbating alone. The humiliation of bringing herself off in front of Dicta, was bad enough, and in a public facility--under the gun, as it were--was terrible, but, there in those change- and fitting-rooms, Dicta would occasionally announce, just to keep her off balance, that Suzie couldn't touch herself until after Dicta had climaxed, then force her to get herself off quickly, while threatening to expose her before she got there, and not letting her quit.

As the school term progressed, Susan somehow managed to keep up with her studies, while becoming increasingly immersed in her position as Dicta's personal plaything. At several parties, as entertainment for the gang, Dicta directed Suzie to show the others how fast she could bring herself to orgasm. As shocked as she was the first time, she felt compelled to comply--and did so without argument. Susan wasn't sure how she felt about being forced to masturbate in front of the others--not physically forced, but, somehow--and she never could understand just how--forced, nonetheless.

A part of her really didn't like it--it was, obscene, tawdry, pathetic. And she was ashamed of herself, of her passive complicity. But at the same time, she was torn; for she most definitely loved the carnal sensations her behaviour elicited. Her entire being, her personality, her upbringing, her character and disposition, her very nature was conflicted. How could it be that she seemed to derive pleasure from her humiliation, her shame, her mortification--very intense erotic pleasure? She had no answer. No, Susan couldn't begin to understand her own complicity, nor the immense pleasure she enjoyed--indeed, reveled in--from simply complying with Dicta's demands. Notwithstanding, she was fascinated with the journey, as Dicta led her down paths she had never imagined herself traveling--through situations she had never even anticipated.

When one of the girls from the larger group introduced Dicta to her new lesbian girlfriend--another freshman whom, she boasted in front of the meek young thing, she had seduced, Susan saw, not a reflection of herself, but a pathetically submissive waif. She, Susan deluded herself, was in her position by choice--even if it was rather tacit choice. But, she told herself, she had not been coerced; she was not a possession that Dicta could show-off. Of this, she was firmly convinced, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Susan was, even then, still surprised to suspect that she might be considered a lesbian. And, when she thought about it, she had to conclude, "I must be, eh? I mean, how else can I explain getting so turned-on just by kissing and caressing Dicta." Furthermore, she hadn't developed even the slightest connection with any young men the entire school year. Go figure.

Dicta convinced Suzie to stay on the coast over summer break; persuaded her to tell "little white lies" about taking summer courses. Susan, of course, did.

As the summer got underway, Susan sort of took stock of her university career so far--mainly the progression of her sexuality: the very tactile way Dicta had befriended her, and taken her under her wing. How they began touching, then kissing, then necking. It had been quite mutual to start, but Susan had, early on, begun to crave it, while Dicta had begun rationing her caresses. Oddly enough, infrequency of her touch soon incited super-arousal. Then, Dicta started having Suzie diddle herself while lavishing her attention on Dicta's nipples. Funny how it had all seemed to develop so smoothly.

Over the summer, more and more, Dicta had Susan perform at parties--sucking tits, diddling twats, cumming on her own fingers, for an audience. Before long, the partiers began making and taking bets on how fast she could get there. For a little variety, Dicta slowly introduced toys: vibrators, dildos, Ben Wa balls, anal beads, into Suzie's repertoire.

Besides providing opportunities for fitting-room escapades, the girls' shopping excursions had resulted in a gradual but total revamping of Susan's wardrobe. All of her dresses and skirts, whether clingy-tight, or summer-flouncy, were short, short with plunging necklines, and usually worn above thigh-high stockings and CFM heels. Initially Dicta took scissors to a couple of Suzie's bras cutting peek-a-boo openings in the cups, but that silliness soon gave way to new open-nipple bras, or push-ups, or half-cups. Notwithstanding, more often than not, Susan was required to go braless. Of course, every bit of Susan' utilitarian ginch was immediately dumped, in favour of bikinis and thongs of diminishing sizes. Even then, Susan often found herself going commando, having lost her undergarments during some directed activity during the day. Early on, Dicta had coaxed Susan into trimming and shaping her bush, but getting into summer, what with micro-bikini bathing suits and outrageously short shorts she'd insisted Suzie shave her pudendum smooth and bare, and instructed her to keep it clean-shaven.

The result of all that was that, by the end of the summer, Suzie had adopted a style more hard-edged than just 'tartish', a look that, though Susan was still, technically a virgin, virtually screamed out 'SLUT!'

At one point, in the middle of the summer, Susan got an email from her mother, the busy investment lawyer, saying she was stopping by for a quick visit, as she was going to be in town on business. Susan nearly freaked out! Fortunately, it didn't take too much bafflegab to dissuade her--some sort of 'summer-session retreat' bullshit.

DICTA

As much as I like girls AND boys, I don't think of myself as bisexual; just sexual. If anything, I'm omnisexual: women or men; straight or gay, or undecided; young or old or anywhere in between; any race, creed, or religion; any of the huge variety of toys, rigid or flexible, motorized or static. I've never fucked a dog nor been fucked by one, but, given the right circumstances, it's not out of the question. Simply put, I just love to fuck. I mean, what's not to like? A good strong, active fuck--with size and endurance; OR the control I can exert over a young woman, the things I can get her to do, once I get my talons set. God knows, there's nothing like sitting on a pretty young face and getting an enthusiastic tongue-lashing, but, truth is, it's probably the power that delights, even more than the erotic pleasure.

Cumming from Suzie's fingers at my cunt, while she sucked and kissed my boobs was becoming almost monotonous, so, I said to her, one afternoon, when we were alone in her dorm, "Time to change things up a bit." She looked up at me, through her eyelashes--questioning, waiting. "Yes, my dear, I believe we can put that tongue of yours to much better use." I don't know why I hadn't done this earlier, but, better late than never, I began instructing Suzie in the fine art of cunnilingus. Gently pushing her head down between my thighs, I guided her face into my vee, and, holding her there to start, I began teaching Suzie how to give good head.

"Okay, point your tongue, and reach with it, until you just make contact. Wrap your hands under and around my thighs to steady yourself. Now, slowly, lift your face, to begin stroking up through my bush--you're just waking-up my pussy-lips. Drop your chin, just a bit, then pushing with the tip of your tongue, stroke up again, separating my blossoming labia, as they get puffy. Once you've opened the furrow--yeah, like that--increase your stroke length--from my anus all the way up to my clitoris. Now, increase the pressure. No, don't go any faster, not yet. Slow and deliberate. Dip into my vagina, as it moistens up. Swirl and flick my clit at the top of each stroke--yessss! That's right. Poke and swirl my rosebud at bottom of each stroke. Now, while you keep that up at a steady pace, raise your arms up under my top, until your fingers find my tits. Fiddle them. Sporadically suck my clit, and waggle your tongue to bat my labia side-to-side. Ooooh, that's it. N-n-n-ow... Here it comes! Stay at it! Ride out my orgasm!"

Suzie was a natural, and before the afternoon was through, I had cum a couple more times, riding her tongue. Despite her sad puppy eyes, dearest Suzie never complained when I didn't reciprocate, and she never has; for, while I've never actually said it, I think she knows that I'll never leave my lipstick on hers, or anyone else's cunt.

In the early fall of Suzie's second year, I decided something had to be done with her long, wavy, golden-blonde hair. Too establishment, too preppy, too mundane. I didn't tell her what was up until I had her in the bathroom, with scissors and clippers at hand. Didn't even give her a chance to complain--not that I expected her to. Anyway, we shaved the left side of her head, and dyed the rest a sort of variegated green stripes--not actually, I have to admit, because I particularly liked it, but because I could. Taking advantage of Suzie's docile acceptance, I decided she needed more ear-piercings. "A single hole per ear is so passé," I explained. "I think we'll go with four on your right side and five on your left." Getting seated at the salon, I consulted with the aesthetician on the placement of the extra holes--mostly arranged over the top of her ears. I warned her that piercings on the top of her ears were really going to hurt. To her credit she sat perfectly still throughout, allowing only the slightest whimpers during the whole process. She even let me--though I didn't give her much choice--choose the extra adornments, and fit them into the new puncture-wounds.

As the first term of that second year wound down, I announced during an evening's gathering, "Hey, it was Patsy's birthday, yesterday, and we didn't get her anything." Then I looked at Patsy, nodded towards Suzie, and raised my finger, sitting up straight, like I suddenly had an idea. "Tell you what, Patsy. Suzie'll go down on you. Won't you, Hon? She's getting to be quite the expert muff-diver! I cum pretty much whenever she gives me head. Go on, Pet. Munch her muffin, the way you can. Don't be shy. Give her a birthday orgasm!" And dearest Suzie hesitated, it seems, only a moment, before kneeling between Patsy's chubby thighs.

She paused, as if studying a puzzle, then, heaving a big breath, she leaned in, tentatively reaching with her tongue. I watched, not without some amusement, as she flicked and licked a couple of times, before diving in. If rather uncertain to start, surprisingly quickly, Suzie got right into it--pulling into a full face-plant--scrubbing Patsy's inner thighs with her cheeks. "'Atta girl!" I hissed, and, apparently in response, whether to my encouragement or Patsy's quivering, she stretched her arms up under her subject's top, reaching for her tits, to pinch and squeeze. Clasping her hands behind Suzie's head, as she began to shudder and shake, Patsy gasped and squealed in her obvious surprise at the sudden onset of the orgasm engendered by Suzie. Sitting back and smiling, I told my little acolyte, "Ya done me proud, girl!"

One other thing we did that fall was getting a couple matching tattoos. Of course, matching didn't mean identical. Inked very small and delicate inside complementary wrists--her right, my left--I had written, simply, 'Mine' on me, and 'Hers' on Suzie's--a subtle badge of submission whenever we held hands.

SUSAN

As Susan passively accepted the extra ear piercings as a fait accompli, she pondered the significance. Dicta never asked her--not what she thought, not if she agreed, not if she wanted it, yet she, Susan never really objected, not verbally, anyway. Despite her soft whimperings from the stinging pain, she began to realize there was something else--a quietly, deep-running current--some sort of masochistic charge intrinsic within the situation, that manifested itself as, if not exactly pleasure, then a perverse satisfaction. She felt some contentment in having things done to her--with not being consulted--without her consent. Still, it could be argued that she had fully given her consent, if only tacitly, to the additional ear decoration. That truth became increasingly evident when Dicta first had her inked.

Nonetheless, Susan had been truly shocked when Dicta offered her as Patsy's birthday surprise. She thought their Sapphic dabblings were a secret, just between the two of them. Dropping to her knees in front of Patsy, she acceded to Dicta's coaxing almost unconsciously, and suddenly found herself face-to-face, as it were, with an unclothed quim. Susan had paused for a long moment--along with everyone else in the room, who were all waiting to see what happened next--then, inhaling deeply, to assess Patsy's aroma--which was different from Dicta's, but not unpleasant--she leaned in and began to lick. While Patsy's furrow was dry to start, it moistened rapidly. Her taste was curiously familiar.

When she thought about it afterwards, Susan could almost believe that being given as a gift was a compliment, of sorts--what Dicta had said about her talented tongue. "It shows," she had rationalized to herself, "that Dicta likes the way I give head. She values me; so, I wouldn't want to disappoint her."

A short while later, it happened again. "Look, Pet. Dot got us tickets for the Hell-elujah concert! We must show her our appreciation, must we not?" Dicta leaned over and stage-whispered in her ear, "Give her kiss," but when Suzie leaned in to comply Dicta hissed, "No. I've got these lips. You kiss her pussy-lips. Go on...!"

Susan was not as shocked, this time; in fact, she was hardly surprised. Dicta looked up and added, "Dot, do us a favour and lose your panties, eh?" Then, giving Suzie a slight prod, she cajoled, "Go on. Just like you do to me. Use that terribly talented tongue of yours to make her cum."

Dot smirked as she flipped up her skirt. Bouncing her bottom, she pushed her panties to her thighs, then rolled back, her knees over her boobs, pulling them over her knees and, kicking them off one foot, she extended the other leg to dangle her bikini panties in front of Susan's face. "Here you go then, you little cunt-licker."

As Susan almost eagerly set to performing cunnilingus on Dot, she realized she was doing it to please Dicta much more than Dot, whom she didn't particularly like. There was quite the chatter around the room about Suzie's enthusiasm and apparently innate skill. They were generally unaware of the amount of practice Susan had had with Dicta, still everyone was very impressed when Dot began to squeal and writhe, locking her ankles across Susan's upper back, and clamping her hands behind Suzie's head. "Oh! Oh! Ooooh!" She began to gasp, her head snapping back and forth, pivoting on her neck, as Susan lapped the gathering nectar from her slit, and spread it ever more forcefully around her clitoris. Suddenly, bouncing her bottom off the seat, Dot emitted a high-pitched squeal, and went stiff, almost crushing Susan's head in her scissor-lock!