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The first three episodes of Pages from the University de Sade will be simul-posted here for free. After that they will be available for purchase at $.99 per episode, linked here (with previews) with every sixth episode simul-posted for free.

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“Give you a ride if you make it worth my while,” The driver of the beat up blue sedan rolled down his window and leered at her thumb, which was a bit odd since the rest of her wasn’t very well covered.  Tattered Daisy Dukes, tied off button up, curves spilling out of the bottom of the former and the top of the latter.  Plus she was only sixteen and she looked every bit the number.  And given what he wanted, her body should’ve drawn more attention.  Hell, it deserved more attention.  Didn’t it?

“Sure,” she said, climbing in the passenger seat.  These old models had bench seats in the front.  That always made things easier.

She didn’t have a problem sucking cock in exchange for miles traveled.  That came easy, and the coercion in having to do it almost made her wet in spite of the gross old perverts that were the only type who’d stop for a hitchhiker, even a young pretty one.  But these were rural parts, and those men hadn’t touched anything but the saggy tits of a septuagenarian prostitute in two decades.  A hot, young, wet mouth was too much for them.  The moment was over too fast.

He unzipped as he pulled away from the shoulder of the desolate road.  “Get to work.”  She complied.  She always complied.  He smelt of chewing tobacco and cheap beer and he tasted like sweat and dirt, but was fully hard before her lips even touched the head of his five inch cock.  This would be easy.  They usually were.

He didn’t even put his hand on the back of her head as she bobbed up and down, leading her to hope that maybe he was one of the nice ones, the type that wouldn’t kick her out the door before she’d even swallowed.  He kept the car pretty straight too.  She appreciated that, but she didn’t mind the alternative.  Long as he didn’t turn around.

She did the math in her head as she used her tongue to make things nice and wet.  Two, three minutes so far, so two, three miles she didn’t have to walk.  She was getting close now, close enough that she was considering just bucking up and making a go on foot.  It might take two, three days, but she’d get there.

“Ungh yeah baby, here it comes.”  A warning, this was a true gentleman, she thought as the first stream cascaded off her tongue.  She slowed her pace and focused on the head of his cock, trying to will the cum out with short licks.

“Mmph,” she mumbled as the fourth, fifth, and sixth streams hit with equal force.  The seventh slowed to a dribble by the end, and only droplets came after.  She took care as she pulled off, collecting a few remaining drops that seeped out, and taking care not to spill any of the enormous mouthful.  Men didn’t like having their pants sullied by their own seed.  And she didn’t like making them displeased.

This man laughed at her puffed cheeks and the reason for them, the staccato beats drowning out the unhealthy buzz of the motor.  “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said apologetically as she swallowed, a stray bit escaping and dribbling down her chin.  She caught it with her finger and swallowed that too before tucking the man away and zipping up his pants.

“God damn you’re good at that.”  She grinned.  He was one of the more pleasant blowjobs she’d given in exchange for goods and services on her journey.  His cum didn’t even taste that bad, surprisingly good in fact, sweet, and a little salty.

“What’s your name?” he asked her, quickly guffawing at the realization that the fairly pertinent question had come second.

“Ellie,” she said.

“And where might you be headed Ms. Ellie?  Can’t promise I’m going there, but you’ll excuse me if I feel a little indebted.”  Ellie groaned inside.  Too many felt indebted after.  It was irritating.

“Charenton,” Ellie said as casually as possible.  She tried to take the edge off the name of the town, but the air within the car changed noticeably.

“I’ll take you to the edge of the county,” he said.

“Fine.”

“What makes you want to go there?” he asked, breaking a long silence.

“It’s where I want to be,” Ellie said.

“I hear they turn girls like you into slaves there,” he said.  “Like black folk before the Civil War, but sex slaves.  You want that?”

“I just got done sucking your dick for a ride.”

“Fair enough,” the man said, staring straight ahead out the windshield.

They were only about fifty miles out, and thankfully the man didn’t try to speak to her further or get her to do anything else.  He just occasionally snuck peaks at her cleavage and her bare midriff and sighed a lot as though she were going to waste.  She hated that too.  She wasn’t going to waste.  In fact, it was the first time she felt like she had any value at all.

“Ride’s still good if you want to stay,” he offered as he pulled over at the county line.

“Thanks,” she said, opening the door and stepping out.

“Alright then.”  He wheeled the car into a careening turn that looked more dangerous than anything at five miles an hour ever should and left her standing there staring down a rural two lane highway alone once more.  From what she remembered on the maps, she had another eighteen miles to go before she reached her destination, but she’d planned for this part.  She’d known Charenton was isolated, had known it had a reputation among those nearby.  She’d known the last part of the journey would be done on foot.

***

“Fuck me,” Ellie moaned, undoing the button on her shorts and stopping to pull them off entirely.  The summer heat was not kind, and toting around a twenty pound backpack that contained her entire life didn’t help.  She’d already sweated through her shirt and done away with it several minutes previous.  She’d hoped to keep the bottoms and some semblance of dignity by the time she walked into town, but here she was, a young girl wandering through the barely civilized wilderness in a bra and panties.  She looked more like someone drunkenly stumbling through a music festival than a hitchhiker.

And worst of it, she had no idea how much further she had to go.  Eighteen miles, walk three miles an hour, get there in six hours.  The plan was simple enough, but keeping track of an hour without a watch was another thing entirely.  Her laptop had a clock, but its battery had long since died, and it was buried under clothes anyway lest someone peek in try to rob her.  The sun had moved, she knew that much.  It felt like it had moved a lot, but she had no idea if that meant two hours, or four hours, or if her brain had just addled everything to begin with.

A small black dot appeared in the distance, and after a few seconds of befuddled staring, Ellie realized it was a car.  A few seconds after that she realized she was suddenly terrified.  This wouldn’t be some ignorant yokel, this would be someone from Charenton, or worse (better?) the University.  Her plan had been “get there.”  Her plan after arriving didn’t exist.  She thought about jumping into the brush at the side of the road, of hiding until the vehicle passed, but immediately discounted that as absurd.  She’d traveled miles for this, done some filthy things for this.  This was what she wanted.

As expected the car slowed to a stop, a gleaming almost painfully clean Prius with dark tinted windows.  The driver’s side started slowly rolling down and she held her breath.

“Um..hi…” the reedy ginger male that appeared was not in the least bit threatening.  In fact, he was rather like a timid dog.

“Hi,” she said back.  His eyes scanned her body and his face turned flush.

“Ungh, ow.  Ow, okay, maybe if I don’t look.”  He shielded his eyes.  “Nope, cannot unsee.  Good god, ow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I um…well I’m wearing a chastity device.  It keeps me from getting hard by…by being plastic, okay?  And uh, I look at you and…yeah.  Ow.”

“I’m going to Charenton,” she said.  “I ran away from home and I want to attend the University.  Do you think you can give me a ride?”

“Oh…no…” he said.  She stepped back in surprise, she’d expected him to cow to any whim she might have.  “Sorry, I’m on my way to the airport, flying home to see my family.”

“Well can you call someone to come get me?  Or at least tell me how much further I have to go?”

“Well…most of the staff is still around, one sec.”  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.  “Hello Headmistress.  I do have a good reason for calling.  Well, I think it’s a good reason.  Um, there’s this girl.  She’s out on Route 13 towards the airport.  Yeah, she says she’s a runaway.  Bout seven or eight miles, you can’t miss her.  Yeah, I’ll tell her.  Thank you Headmistress.”

He pocketed the phone.  “Not sure if she’s sending a staffer or coming herself, but someone will be bringing a vehicle out to get you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem.  It’s what I live for.  Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get to the airport?”  He posed it like a question, as though he was waiting for something from her.

“Go, I don’t own you,” she said.

“Right, not all women do.  Then why do I need to say all women do?  Okay, cool, maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

“That…would be easier with a name,” she finished as she watched him drive off without another word.  Completely unattractive, but amusing.  She sighed, the prospect of a ride bolstered her spirits.  She was tired, but it wouldn’t hurt to lessen the distance a little bit more, and so she kept walking.

***

Ten minutes later she saw another car on the horizon, this one also black.  It took her earlier nerves and made a mockery of them, flashing a terror to her extremities that caused her to pick up the pace.  The anticipation could kill.  This car slowed down, but it was as far from a Prius as a vehicle could get, its sleek curves and rounded edges almost sliding the viewer’s eyes off it.  ‘This car is too good to be gazed upon by the likes of you,’ it sneered.  All except the hood ornament.  The leaping silver cat forced Ellie to take notice, and identified its occupant as a predator.  Ellie shivered.

It just sat there, waiting, watching, ready to strike like its namesake.  It was only when Ellie was a split second from walking over and knocking did the window roll down.  “Sorry for the intimidation dear, I just had to get a good look.  My, you are going to get attention.  I mean, all of our female submissives do, but you especially so.  I’m Headmistress Arrington.”

Unlike her car, Mallory Arrington was not intimidating.  Not in this state anyway, when her hair was a touch out of place and she put on her happy eyes and actually ended statements with a smile.  Headmistress Arrington was, but she was tucked away for now.

Ellie relaxed instantaneously.  Surely no one with eyes like that could mean her harm.  And her tone was so welcoming, like a Royal Lady greeting guests to her family’s castle.  However the royal similarities stopped there.  Headmistress Arrington was an odd blend of modern and old, looking like a punk rocker crossed with a steampunk librarian.  She towered over Ellie as she stepped out to toss her bag in the trunk, her jet black hair twisted into a long braid that reached to the small of her back.  Her round wireframe glasses aged a youthful face for her forty-two years and her black corset and slacks left no mistake as to who she was.

“Passenger seat is fine dear,” Arrington informed her after shutting the trunk and seeing Ellie eying the back.  “Don’t worry about the dirt, believe me, I can find plenty to clean it for me.  Maybe it’ll even be you.”  She winked and climbed back in herself, somehow folding her tall frame into the sedan.  ‘Jesus, she’s not even wearing heels,’ Ellie realized.

“You’ve run pretty far away judging by the thickness of the grime on your skin and clothes.  You’re going to Charenton.  Do you know what’s in Charenton?”

Ellie nodded.

“Well speak up.”

“The University de Sade,” Ellie mumbled.  Headmistress Arrington seemed to fill not only the car, but her own head.

“Good girl.  And knowledgeable girl.  I do love it when we are successful in our desire to remain just enough of a secret to keep from prying eyes, but not so much so that we lose out on lovely new students such as yourself.”

“Well you wouldn’t be our first runaway and I daresay you won’t be our last.  Unfortunately an interest in BDSM and a history of abuse do seem to overlap to a certain degree.  For the unlucky that’s all it ends up being, some horrible component of their past that they’ve eroticized and fetishized as a means of coping.  The lucky ones end up here with the ability to learn about themselves and, if they are able, to combat their demons and defeat them.”

“I assume you know more than nothing since you timed your little sojourn well.  The late summer refresher courses are set to begin shortly and the semester shortly after them.  It’s a fortuitous time to arrive.”  It was then that they pulled off the two lane highway and onto a narrow semi-circle of fresh black pavement.  It looked like the sort of side avenue that might exist as a snowplow turnaround, or might house a metering station or some other public works building, but a narrower and older path extended from its midpoint.  Within twenty yards a large iron gate barred them entry, though when it saw Arrington’s car, it acquiesced to allow them through.

Arrington drove them beneath tree cover so dense it at times seemed like they’d veered off into a brown and green tunnel.  After over a half mile the road widened, and then finally burst forth from the trees into a large parking lot fronting the most gorgeous campus Ellie had ever seen.  With towering gothic architecture via buildings that loomed over vast green spaces, it looked like the school had been long ago commissioned by some great Lord, not a place that hadn’t yet seen its first centennial.  In the lawn that sat between the mansionesque administration building at the right edge of the parking lot, and the hulking student center to the left Ellie could see a young woman enjoying a carriage ride pulled by two male ponies down one of the wide sidewalks leading deeper into campus.  The young men wore great leather masks and hooves and sprouted long ebony tails from anal plugs, but were otherwise completely nude.

She sat there, her jaw agape, only registering that Arrington had left the car when she leaned over and tapped on her window causing her to jump.  “There’s a shower in my flat if you please,” she said.  “And I’ll fetch you some clothes and see if I can find someone from the counseling staff and legal department.”

“Counseling staff?  Legal department?”

“Yes, there are two barriers between you and your entry to the University.  First and foremost is your mental wellbeing.  All of our students undergo an initial evaluation so that they can be adequately paired, but for minors such as yourself there’s particular scrutiny.  We do, after all, need to be sure that you are mentally, emotionally, and sexually capable of consenting, both to a BDSM relationship, and to sex itself.”

“The second also has to do with your minor status, though in this case it’s a bit more straightforward.  If you want to be here, you’ll have to obtain parental consent, or become legally emancipated.  Since the former seems unlikely considering how you came to be with us, I’m just going to progress to the latter.”  Ellie swallowed hard and nodded, casting one last glance at the prancing ponyboys before following Headmistress Arrington towards the looming Victorian administration building.

Two trimly dressed doormen pulled open the massive twin oak doors permitting Arrington and Ellie entry, one of them breaking into an interested grin at the sight of Ellie and her lack of coverings.  The interior of the mansion was as impressive as the outside with immaculate wooden floors and cherry trim.  Oriental carpets covered the open spaces and provided soft thoroughfares through the halls and all of the furniture looked period appropriate, like it had been plucked right out of a novel from Britain itself.

The staff, what few that were manning the University during its summer months, all stood when Arrington entered.  Ellie could see that they all wore black chokers bearing the words University de Sade embroidered in bright red with gleaming silver D-rings at the front.  They wore matching red collared shirts featuring the school’s coat of arms on the breast with the top several buttons undone for both the men and the women.  As Ellie’s eyes wandered downward she saw that both men and women were outfitted with tight black slacks that left little to the imagination.  A few of the men were erect and Ellie licked her lips at the sight.

“As you were,” Arrington nodded to the room, giving an appreciative smile.  “This way,” she said to Ellie, leading her to a large staircase at the back of the room.  “The bottom floor is all the administration,” she explained as she walked.  “Mainly the admissions department and the school records.  The second floor contains some more personal spaces, conference rooms, bedrooms for some of the staff.  And the third,” she said, leading Ellie across the second floor to a second, more narrow staircase.  “The third floor, ironically was once the residence of the original owner’s servants, back when this was a socialite’s house in upstate New York.  Since it has resided here it has contained the living quarters of myself and the school’s other four governors.”

The top floor of the mansion was L-shaped with a large common room at the bottom end of the L down a long wide hallway from the stairs.  Off the hallway were six doors, five of them being the homes of each of the school’s governors, Ellie surmised.  Given the size of the house, each would open into a spacious interior, no doubt multiples rooms themselves, much like luxury apartments.  Arrington led her over to one and keyed the door.

Ellie could see at once that her assessment had been correct, with Arrington’s home looking like it would have been more appropriate as a Manhattan penthouse than tucked away in rural Charenton.  Unlike the rest of the mansion the décor was surprisingly modern with sleek, simple black, white, and grey dominating the room.  Also unlike the rest of the mansion, which was formal to the point of stuffiness, Arrington had clearly strove to cultivate a comfortable atmosphere.  With a soft frumpy couch and books and electronics left slightly askew, their cords and bookmarks trailing them like idle tails, it looked like a place that had been lived in, not merely looked at.

Headmistress Arrington's Apartment

“The bathroom is along that back wall,” Arrington said with a knowing grin while setting herself on the couch.  At once Ellie felt like she was on display, her lack of clothing very obvious.  There seemed to be a joke she wasn’t being let in on, but couldn’t decipher it, so she smiled and followed the direction of Arrington’s hand.

The bathroom, like the rest of the apartment was gorgeous, with pebbled tile and pristine glass encasing the multi-headed shower.  That was when Ellie noticed that the doors themselves were glass as well, and with the apartment’s open floor plan were in full view of the couch where Arrington sat.  “Don’t delay, someone will be up with fresh clothes for you shortly.”

Ellie went red, unsure what was worse, Arrington’s eyes boring into her backside, or turning to meet the intimidating woman’s gaze.  She settled for the former and tried to will her mind to ignorance as she shut the utterly useless doors.  She took a deep breath before slipping her fingers inside the waistband of her panties and pulled them downwards, her legs tingling every inch of the way.

By now the knowledge that she was being watched was inescapable and she discarded her bra quickly just to get it over with.  She found herself hoping that Arrington appreciated what she saw.  If the older woman took delight in viewing her body, the embarrassment would at least be tolerable.  The shower’s three heads brought a cascade of warmth into the middle of the spacious interior, quickly heating to the desired temperature.  Realizing that the water coupled with the rising steam would start to obscure the view, she stepped in quickly.  She couldn’t be sure if she imagined it due to the rush of the water, but she thought she heard Arrington let loose a disappointed sigh.

Now she finally chanced a turn to see if she’d pleased her host, finding Arrington engrossed in the Kindle that had been sitting atop her coffee table.  If she’d watched her strip, she’d shown no sign of it, her gaze as respectfully averted as that of a bumbling teenage boy might have been.  ‘Mm,’ Ellie thought.  She hoped there were no bumbling teenaged boys here, at least not ones she’d frequently encounter.

What struck her most about the few people she’d seen was the utter lack of nerves.  At times her submission had felt like a caged animal and something she would no sooner go near.  In public she had watched it with caution, rarely approaching, terrified of what might come out of it.  But here, here people were resolute, not resigned to their place, but reveling in it.  She wanted that desperately, the unyielding, unbending knowledge that she was where she belonged.

“I brought a towel for you dear,” Headmistress Arrington’s nearby voice nearly made her jump through the walls of the shower.  She covered her breasts with one forearm and clamped the other hand over her pussy, staring through the foggy glass that wasn’t nearly transparent enough.  The silent unlocking doors to the bathroom had allowed Arrington to enter unnoticed and watch from a scant yard away.

How long had she been there?  Ellie had kept her backside turned, partially in an effort to forget that the taller woman could see her from the living room, partially to get the best of the three jets of warm water.  “You have nothing I haven’t seen before,” Arrington coaxed, “though I must admit you are particularly delectable.  Why don’t you stop hiding and come get your towel?”

Ellie sheepishly turned the water off and dropped first the hand across her breasts, then the one over her pussy, leaving them to dangle at her sides and affording Arrington a full view.  The older woman raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, her faint smile casting a muted, but appreciative appraisal of the sight before her.

“Good girl, now come here.  I won’t bite.”  At the utterance of those first two words, Ellie’s heart fluttered and the color felt like it surged to her face tenfold.  She kept her eyes downcast as she stepped forward, the warmth that besieged her face quickly dropping to her pussy.  Ellie had rarely felt so humiliated, and she had never felt so aroused.  That the mere sight of her naked body along with her compliance pleased Arrington was bliss.

“Thank you…Ma’am?” she tried, taking the towel.

Arrington laughed.  “’Headmistress’ will do fine.  It seems a cliché to say that ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old, but the truth is, it does.”

“Thank you Headmistress.”

“You’re welcome dear,” Arrington replied as Ellie finished wringing out her hair.  Without realizing what she was doing, she handed the towel back.  This made the Headmistress’s smile widen.  “Your clothes are waiting in my bedroom, if you’ll walk before me.”  Arrington opened one of the glass doors and gestured out.

As she passed, Ellie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  Her face was red, though not as much as she would have thought.  Being nude for the Headmistress had quickly come to feel natural.  Though walking in front of her and being well aware of the eyes studying her backside certainly heightened her senses.  Every move felt excessively deliberate, almost to the point of awkwardness, and the sensations that had fluttered in her stomach and made her pussy wet grew exponentially.

“I guessed at your sizes, so I’m afraid things may be a bit…small,” Arrington said.

When her eyes fell upon the folded clothes, Ellie relaxed a little.  The plain skirt, white button up combination was an outfit she was well used to at the Catholic school she’d run away from, although Ellie had been more wont to defy the order with black skinny jeans or yoga pants, at least until a teacher sent her home.

Though when Ellie began pulling the garments on she quickly began to notice some key differences.  The bottom of the skirt just barely covered the bottom curvature of her ass, and the white blouse was both form fitting and transparent enough to leave nothing to the imagination, though Arrington had been kind enough to supply her with a bra that fit nicely.  “Um, I can’t find the panties,” Ellie said, both already aware of, and dreading the answer.

“There are no panties,” Arrington replied sweetly.  “Are you ready?  I’ve set up a meeting with one of the school’s admissions counselors in a few minutes.  Your emancipation, I’m afraid, will take more time as it is a far more complicated matter.”

Ellie nodded, tugging at the bottom of the skirt, finding it left her with two options, show ass at the top, or show ass at the bottom.  Finding the latter far sexier, she settled upon it, hiking the skirt to a comfortable height and trying to forget about the fact that her pussy was also exposed.  At least she’d shaved it before she’d left.

Arrington gestured towards the door.  “Walk in front of me dear,” she said.  “I know it’s traditional for Dommes to charge ahead with submissives meekly in tow, but I can never seem to deprive myself of such a lovely view.  So you’ll walk to the left and head down the stairs.  We’re only going to the second floor, pity.  It would be nice to parade you around campus, but in front of a handful of staff will have to do.”

Ellie could feel the light skirt bouncing and revealing more of her body with each step.  She didn’t know how much of her lower half remained obscured, but it had to be almost nothing.  As they walked down the stairs they passed a young male staffer heading up.  Ellie was well aware that the angle gave him a line of sight directly up her skirt, and he took good advantage of it, staring the whole way and grinning at her as he passed.  Ellie kept her eyes straight ahead, more worried about tripping and falling and looking stupid in front of Arrington.  She did not want to disappoint the Headmistress.

“Stop,” Arrington ordered suddenly.  Her words had such a finality to them, Ellie couldn’t conceive of doing anything but complying.  She turned to find herself in front of a door labeled Shawna Davis: Admissions Counselor (s).  She stood there for several seconds staring at the door, not daring to turn and address Arrington.

“Go on in dear,” Arrington said.  “And thank you for the view.”  With that she disappeared back down the hall.

Ellie approached the door with caution, as though there might be a raging inferno on the other side.  When the handle proved, not scalding, but cool to the touch, she turned it and pushed the door open.

“Damn gurl, look at that ass!” Shawna Davis rose from behind her desk, folds of red and gold bouncing and swaying with her form.  Ellie’s nerves dissipated immediately as her face broke into a grin, and before she could move or protest, Shawna enveloped her into a buxom, soft hug.

“Not nervous anymore, are ya?  Come at ‘em big ‘n black, that always breaks the ice,” Shawna said, grabbing a clipboard off her desk and settling into the large leather couch pushed against the wall next to the door.

“Well, I prob’ly don’t even need to go through all this,” Shawna gestured to the sheet.  “I see Headmistress Arrington has already dug her nails into you, and that woman only fucks with people who can handle it.  She has the knack, and she’s never, ever wrong.  But for the sake of paperwork…”  Shawna steadied her clipboard, her thick muscular thigh acting as a passable desk.

“You’re submissive, that’s why you’re in my office and not one of our dominant counselors.  Why?”

“Why what?” Ellie asked, trying to find a comfortable position with the short skirt.

“Why are you submissive?  Or why are you here?”

“Uh…”  No one had ever asked her.  Actually no one had ever known about her inclinations towards BDSM, at least not explicitly.  Sure, they could have guessed by watching her, how she acted to please others, how she acquiesced to demands.  But she never would have revealed herself publicly.  It was too…weird, too undesirable.  She would be judged, she knew that, and probably condemned.  Now everything was at the forefront.  She was exposed.

“I’m not really sure…” she almost whispered, embarrassed at having come up with so little.

“That’s a good start,” Shawna said, her boisterous voice making up for Ellie’s lack of volume.

“It is?”

“Sure darlin’, no one is really sure, all we can do is guess.  Granted admitting you don’t have all the answers is more healthy for Doms, but it’s good for subs too.  When did you first having thoughts or feelings about BDSM?”

“Five or six I think,” Ellie said.  “I mean, I always wanted to please people because…because that made things…better for me,” she said, struggling to find the words.

“Because that didn’t get you hit,” Shawna finished.  Ellie nodded.

“But I liked the pleasing people part of it too,” she added.  “And rope, I always used to watch cartoons where the girl would be kidnapped and tied up and I used to wrap myself up in my blankets and pretend I was the girl.  It made me…it made me horny,” she said, turning red in the face once again.  “That started when I was ten or eleven maybe?”

“So when did you figure out that these things were BDSM fantasies?”

“Thirteen or fourteen,” Ellie said.  I just searched for ‘girls tied up’ or something on the internet.  And I started going into chatrooms.”  She remembered her exploratory days, when she downloaded every instant messaging client under the sun to have access to as many chatrooms as possible.  Most of them were categorized pretty generically, merely labeled ‘Adult’, but once she mentioned her age and her gender she had no shortage of people to talk to.

The problem was finding men whose interest was BDSM and not preying on young girls on the internet.  Most just wanted pictures of her doing various things, which was fun for a while, following orders, bending herself into compromising positions in panties and tank tops for the delight of horny old men, but it quickly grew stale.  There was a next level she just couldn’t quite find.

Save for one man.  He hadn’t been interested in her, not sexually, too young he said, but as an object of submission.  Their ritual was simple, once a month she would put on her only dress, an airy lavender sundress that she detested wearing for anyone but him, she would tie her hair back into a simple, neat ponytail, she would apply a minimum of makeup, and she would kneel in the center of her bedroom floor on webcam for him while they discussed bondage.

He was always very careful in his speech, always using ‘her’ and ‘the girl’ when he described what he liked to do, but Ellie only ever heard ‘you.’  During their conversations she was always in his fantasies, doing his household chores during the day and kneeling at his feet in the evening.  When he began talking about his personal experiences and his sexual desires, she was there too.

She always pictured him breaking her in slowly.  She would be kneeling in front of him, like usual, and then he would grab her by the hair, gently, and pull her in close, holding her face inches from his tented pants.  She would ask to unzip him, her curiosity at never having seen a penis in the flesh driving all other thoughts from her head.  He would refuse.

She would beg.  “Please Master let me unzip your pants.”

He would smile.  “What are you going to do when you do?”

“I don’t know,” she would say.

“Do you want to learn?” he’d ask.  She’d nod eagerly, maybe even beg again.  She’d seen porn so she wasn’t completely clueless, but she wanted more than knowledge.  She’d watched the men intently, stared at their faces, studied the ecstasy that a girl could bring with only her lips and her tongue.  She was addicted to that look of pleasure, of utter adulation.  She craved it.

But he never gave in to her youthful wiles, never returned her flirting, never desired her sexually.  It was what she needed, but it wasn’t what she wanted.  He had also turned her on to a University near the small village of Charenton where she could learn more.  Then he’d disappeared.

She’d waited for him for months, always on time, always kneeling, always wearing the sundress, even as her bust began to outgrow it.  Eventually she got her first sexual experience elsewhere.  His disappearance coupled with her home life slowly and steadily pushed her over the edge.  Then, one July morning, she’d packed up what little she’d cared to bring with her and left.

“Still with me girl?” Shawna asked.  It was the quietest she’d ever heard the buxom woman speak, but it was enough to snap her out of her trance.  Ellie nodded.  “You gon’ clean my couch?” Shawna asked in a stern voice, noting the wet streaks where Ellie sat.

Ellie was mortified, and realized that her fingertips idly fondled the bottom of her skirt.  Had she been touching herself?  She had no idea, the thought of kneeling had taken her…somewhere else.  She tried to look back at Shawna, tried to answer, but her eyes only found the floor and her lips stayed locked together.

“Good lord, I’m just kidding girl,” Shawna reassured her.  “We got service subs for that, don’t worry.  Hell, maybe I’ll do it myself.  I got some questions for you, this is more basic right/wrong stuff, how old were you when you first fucked, what do you like, what do you not like, stuff like that, alright?”  Ellie nodded.

For the next hour Shawna picked and prodded at Ellie’s likes and dislikes, romantically, sexually, and in bondage, as well as her experiences with each.  She seemed to write sparingly, the bulk of her attention focused on Ellie, but by the time things started winding down, Ellie could see she’d filled out four pages worth of forms.

“We’ll use this to match you with a Dom,” she explained. “All freshman students are required to submit for at least a year, or take on a Dominant upperclass mentor if they come on as the Dominant half of a couple. Luckily for you the submission’ll come easy,” Shawna laughed.  “Now the Headmistress is waiting for you outside, best not to keep her.

Shawna led her to the door, and sure enough Arrington was standing outside.  “Ready for your next step?”  Ellie nodded and walked back into the Headmistress’s clutches.

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