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.
Author’s Note: Initially this episode contained a rape scene, which it no longer does. Such a scene has no purpose in this work, and I was stupid and wrong for thinking that the description of such an ugly and vile act was necessary to raise the subject of consent as it relates to BDSM. I apologize to everyone that read it.
Arrington again made her walk out in front, and Ellie could feel the older woman’s eyes tracing her backside. She couldn’t help but think back to the moment in the shower and could only imagine that the clothes were a tiny obstacle for the woman to be viewing her nude once again.
To be frank, they weren’t much of an obstacle for anyone else. The skirt bounced with every step despite its short length, giving a constant almost unhindered view of her bare ass. It was of little comfort that the second floor of the administration building was as barren as one would expect a college in the summertime. Ellie felt eyes on her everywhere, even when there were no eyes present.
Arrington led her down the back staircase, this time continuing past the first floor and into the basement. There Ellie found herself walking down a long narrow corridor with a gray cement floor. The implications finally sunk in and her heart began to race. “The door on your right,” Arrington ordered from behind, her voice unyielding, but containing something else. Mirth?
Ellie prepared herself for the worst in dank, under-lit dungeons, for floggers and paddles and other implements to leer at her from the walls. What she found instead was the sleek gray of stainless steel with washer-dryer units facing a folding table in the center of the room where her clothes and her backpack lay in neat squares.
“Where did you think you were going?” Arrington asked with some amusement. “You may change now if you would like to be more fully covered, although it’s quite warm out so I wouldn’t recommend the button up.”
Ellie nodded, checking to ensure her laptop was still tucked safely in her backpack before digging through what little she’d brought. She slid her thumbs beneath the waistband of her skirt and had revealed a hint of two day old stubble before becoming aware of Arrington’s bright eyes watching her intently. Turning red and casting a sheepish glance back, she let gravity drop the garment, trying to remind herself that it was something that had already been seen. She replaced the revealing schoolgirl outfit with her daisy dukes, a black bra, and a white tank top. It was a look that, while reminding her of the home she’d been happy to leave, she greatly enjoyed sporting.
“You do simplicity well,” Arrington approved. “But your neatness could use work,” she nodded towards the disheveled clothes that displayed no evidence they’d been cleaned or ironed. “We should head back upstairs. There are a few unpaired students that chose to remain on campus, Ms. Davis will have found one to match you with by now.”
“That fast?” Ellie asked, moving to walk in front of Arrington once more, this time without prompting.
Arrington chuckled, “We have a thorough system for tracking our students. And when you have such clearly defined power dynamics, things tend to get done rather quickly.”
When the two arrived at Shawna’s office, the buxom black woman was already waiting for them on the bench outside the door. “You’re not gonna like this,” she said, handing over a sheet of paper.
“Mmmhmm,” Shawna murmured. “I ran it through twice.”
“If it’s what the system produced…” Arrington said. It was the first time Ellie had heard her sound even remotely unsure of something.
“That boy ain’t right,” Shawna said.
“He’s never been reprimanded.”
“He’s already gone through three subs,” Shawna said.
Arrington sighed. “I know it’s not ideal, but we don’t have any justification to deviate from protocol. We can’t fiddle with the system just because we don’t like someone. Did you contact him?”
“Thank you,” Arrington said, turning to a skeptical Ellie. “I’ll take you over to Acworth Hall where you and Whitson, your Dominant, will sit down with a BDSM Safe Practices Officer and outline a list of rules.”
“Okay,” Ellie said, heading out in front once more, but this time Arrington maintained a much closer gap. “Don’t be nervous,” Arrington said. “If Whitson wasn’t supposed to be here, he would have been weeded out already. He’s had a different submissive each year, all three of them refusing to remain in his control, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Some Dominants and some Submissive are just more unique and more difficult to match than others.”
Acworth hall loomed across the square parking lot that split the hall and the Governor’s Mansion. It towered over her, though as she looked around, the same could be said of any of the buildings on campus. Most of them were several stories with thick stone walls and peaked red roofs. It looked more like a collection of castle armaments than a series of academic buildings. Acworth hall was in fact the shortest that Ellie could see, coming in at just two levels.
Just inside the door a series of folding tables and two dollies of folding chairs sat in an empty space to the right. A banner congratulating the class of 2014 still hung lopsided off one of them. To the left was a large carpeted area with several couches, tables, and chairs ringing around an enormous fireplace that had been forced dormant in the summer months.
Even with the school mostly empty the student center still showed signs of life with Dominants and their submissives grabbing dinner from one of the many eateries ringing an alcove near the center, or heading up the stairs to check their mail. Arrington directed Ellie towards the stairs, which wrapped around a large landing that featured more chairs and couches looking out an enormous window into the woods behind the building. A narrow swath of trampled grass led into the depths of the trees, and with the nude pony boys in the main yard, Ellie couldn’t help but wonder what occurred underneath the cover of shaded wood.
Where the first floor teemed with college exuberance, the second floor was all business and mostly offices, the only exception being the finger-like extensions covered head to toe in numbered mail slots. Arrington led her away from the post office to where the wide hallway split several large bays which housed Campus Safety and Residence Life on one side, and a U-shaped avenue that wrapped around several offices on the other.
“Whitson and Ryan, your Safe Practices Officer, will be in room 206.” Ellie nodded and turned around but by that time Arrington’s backside was already several feet away leaving her alone in the surprisingly quiet hall.
Ellie took a deep breath before starting down the wing of offices, finding the right one quickly.
“You must be Ellie, I’m Ryan Albertson, come in,” a young looking olive skinned man rose to shake her hand, his bright pink mohawk contrasting sharply with his skin. His companion made no such gesture, only smirking from the loveseat in Ryan’s office. Ellie’s heart fell at the sight of Whitson, an average height, slightly portly, stark white man. He was eminently uninteresting. His face disturbed her too, sneering, condescending, he didn’t even have to say a word. She knew that she was making snap judgments, that her initial prejudices could prove unfounded, but she was not hopeful.
“So you’re new here-“ Ryan started, but Whitson cut him off.
“I’ll explain things, if you don’t mind,” he replied not waiting for an answer. “You’re mine. This meeting is just a formality. Behave and move quickly and I’ll be lenient when I take you back to my room and have my way with you.”
“I’m here to facilitate the process of making rules, to look out for both of your interests, especially yours Ellie. Understand?” Ellie nodded, a pit sinking into her stomach. “Good, do you have any limits?”
“I…don’t know,” Ellie answered, her mind going blank as she stared down such a broad question.
“Well the school bans coprophilia, that’s feces, pedophilia, and bestiality outright,” Ryan said. “Most of our students also tend to stay away from blood play and watersports, that being urine. How do you feel about those?”
“Um, not…good,” Ellie said, fumbling for the right words.
“I’m not going to do any of those anyway,” Whitson said. “Just obey me and you’ll be fine.”
Ryan typed on undeterred. “Anything else you can think of? The rules stay ironclad for a year unless one party breaches them or both parties wish to renegotiate, but you can add limits at any time.”
Ellie shook her head. “Whitson has brought his list of rules,” he handed over a sheet of paper. “Tell me if there’s anything you wish to amend, remove, or add.”
“No one’s ever asked to remove anything,” Whitson said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s a pretty thorough list, and some of the things are not for everyone,” Ryan said, ignoring an increasingly annoyed Whitson. Ellie took the list, finding Whitson’s rules printed in simple font and numbered one to twenty.
- I am to refer to Whitson as Master; our relationship is to be that of a Master / Slave.
- I will be nude at all times.
- All chores, including cleaning and laundry, are my responsibility.
- I will wear an anal hook or an anal plug for all chores, and when commanded.
- I will not cum without permission from now on. As of right now orgasms are prohibited while Master trains me and assess my worth.
- I will be spread each morning so that my pussy and ass may be caned.
- I will be spread before bed each evening so my pussy and ass may be caned.
- I will be waiting by the door kneeling when Master comes home from class.
- My predominant sexual activity will be anal sex.
- I will learn to cum exclusively from anal sex.
- My secondary sexual activity will be giving oral sex.
- Oral sex is a selfless act, I am allowed no stimulation while giving it.
- I will learn to get Master off from oral with my hands cuffed behind my back.
- I am not allowed to refuse to give oral or receive anal.
- I will swallow Master’s cum after every orgasm.
- I will learn to deepthroat.
- I will always have something in my ass when I cum.
- I am not allowed on furniture without permission.
- I am not allowed to use silverware without permission.
- I will sleep cuffed to the bed.
As she read through them one by one the pit in her stomach grew. She wasn’t sure about a lot of them, though she couldn’t say that she disagreed with them either. And could she even say anything in front of Whitson and Ryan? Would her new Master be displeased?
“Do you have any problems with any of those?” Ryan asked. Ellie shook her head solely on instinct. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Okay then, these are your rules of conduct,” Ryan said. “You need to choose a slow-word, that tones down the action if you’re uncomfortable, and a safe-word that stops it completely. They should be simple, but relatively unusual so they can’t be mistaken or misinterpreted.”
“Just the regular red and yellow,” Whitson said, glancing at his watch, then out the window. She nodded, not wanting to displease him, and Ryan added them to the list.
He saved it to the school’s records, uploaded it to the school website and printed up a physical copy while Ellie retreated back into her own head. She was finally getting what she’d hoped for ever since before she even knew what sex was. But…things were so different than how she’d imagined them. She’d always fantasized about being taken by some tall, suave dark-haired man that had all the answers, not this portly specimen that only thought he did. Still, one thing was evident, Whitson was in control, and that thought made her wet, regardless of his looks.
Ryan handed a copy of the rules to Whitson and then ushered the two of them out of the office, wishing them luck. He had his reservations as to how readily Ellie had agreed to everything, but some submissives were naturally meek and happily existed that way. Without any concrete cues from her, he could only suggest things, not interfere.
Whitson put his arm around her and led her out of the office. They made it halfway down the stairs before they were met by Arrington and two large Campus Safety Officers coming up. “Mr. Brantley, please step away from Ms. Jensen and come with us.” Arrington’s tone left no room for disagreement and Ellie could feel the confidence drain from Whitson’s body. His arm lingered for several seconds before the officers stepped forward and he released her and walked in front of them without a word.
“One of his previous submissives saw he’d been re-matched and decided to come forward with some…unacceptable details about their time together. I have a voicemail from another I have yet to listen to. I wanted to get to you first. I suspect Mr. Brantley’s tenure at this University is at an end. We are committed to doing right by our students, anything less will not be tolerated and will be dealt with swiftly and with finality.”
“O…kay…” Ellie stared into space for several seconds. She’d been yanked in so many different directions so quickly she was having trouble processing it all. For the first time since she’d spent her first night away from home hiding from the midnight shift in a 24-hour grocery store, a bit of uncertainty crept into her.
In a split second it flashed to panic. Was it just a fantasy? Just a dream that no reality could possibly live up to? What would have happened if Arrington hadn’t intercepted Whitson, or if that girl hadn’t come forward? Could she even do this at all?
“I can see that this has been difficult for you and you’ve only been here a matter of hours. The school always has counselors available, as well as the Safe Practices Officers. I urge you to use them should you feel the need,” Arrington said, her words soft. “For the purposes of your pairing, I have escalated your case to the school’s Submaster.”
“The school has a governing body of five. I, the Headmistress, am only one of a group which includes our Headmaster, our Submaster, our Submistress, and our Switchmaster. Each is tasked with overseeing a segment of this school’s population, though our interests often overlap. Because I believe he is the ideal person to meet with you, and because our Submistress is out of state, I have contacted Submaster Cutter. He should be meeting us here shortly.
“He’s here now,” a voice called from behind them. “I’m Adam,” a shorter, squat individual, built rather like a truck walked up and shook Ellie’s hand. Unlike Arrington’s mannerisms, the gesture came with almost no authority, as though Adam had done it only because he felt that that’s what should have happened, not because he actually wanted to shake her hand.
Still, despite his limp hand and shorter stature, there was little that was passive about the man. His intense blue eyes and stoic façade coupled with his broad shoulders suggested that were the student center to devolve into an all-out brawl, that he might be the last one standing. In a way that was entirely different than Arrington, he was intimidating.
“I’ll try to fuck up less than the last guy,” Adam said, his eyes softening and his lips breaking into a crooked smile. Ellie decided that she liked him.
“Ryan Albertson,” Arrington whispered, and Ellie got the distinct impression that the Headmistress was making a list in her head, one that she would rather not find herself on. Arrington stood and bid Ellie goodbye and as Ellie watched her go, she realized that the center was significantly emptier than when she’d come in. She felt lonely.
“So I understand you didn’t get a good look at campus,” Adam said. “Would you like a tour?”
“Sure,” Ellie replied. She wasn’t sure what she wanted in that moment, but a tour didn’t sound like something she didn’t want, so she acquiesced. As Arrington had walked her to her room to shower, she’d felt a tremendous sense of relief. Her trials were finally over. She’d arrived. It was clear to her now that the journey had only changed forms.
As she blinked back into the real world, a bolt of fear ran through her. A typical tour guide would have been talking the whole time, providing a nice white background noise to her thoughts. Then they’d ask a question and put her on the spot and she’d be mortified because she hadn’t been listening, and her tenure at the UDS would have started off on the wrong foot on all accounts. But Adam had not talked, he’d merely led her though the student center and out to the path that ringed the school’s main courtyard and fronted most of the academic buildings.
It seemed preposterous that she’d only arrived that afternoon, and the sun had almost dropped completely below the horizon to confirm that time had passed, but the whirlwind of events had indeed only been a handful of hours.
“So what do you want to see?” Adam asked, the words seemed like they were a struggle to conjure.
“Ah the perils of getting two submissives together…no one can make a decision.” Ellie laughed. Adam was cute in a sort of helpless way and while his face betrayed no emotion, his striking blue eyes were full of life. She wondered who his partner was.
“All of it I guess,” she finally answered.
“Well, the Headmistress is busy figuring out where to put you. Since we’re bypassing the Safe Practices Office, there needs to be a signoff from both a Dominant and a submissive school Governor.”
“Right,” Adam said. “So I’m killing time until we’re summoned. Not a lot of time.”
“Oh, okay,” Ellie said, trying to bridge the awkwardness gap. “Let’s just walk I guess.”
“I’m a shitty tour guide,” Adam admitted. “So just ask questions if you have them.”
“What are all these buildings?” Ellie asked, gesturing to the four that ringed the main lawn along with the administration building and the student center and a large multi-building complex just behind them.
“Rebell Hall’s the big one,” Adam said, gesturing towards a five story bent rectangle monstrosity split from the student center by about a hundred feet of woods. “That’s where all the BDSM stuff is housed. Ropes, rigging, furniture, mounts, pretty much everything you can think of. It also contains the medical center. Usually the two aren’t related, but sometimes…” he trailed off.
“To the right of that we have The Pauline Réage Complex which houses our Math, Science, English, and History departments,” he said gesturing towards an H-shaped building that looked somewhat like an old boarding school.
“That’s the John Norman Library,” he pointed towards a broad two story building that stared across the lawn at the student center.
“That’s the Madison Young Media and Digital Arts Center,” he pointed to the right of the library at a tall square building that looked like an oversized clock tower. “Most of our students end up going into sex work so it’s one of our more popular buildings.”
“What’s that?” Ellie pointed towards two large boxy structures that sat on either side of a shorter building with a rounded entrance.
“Right, that’s the Wenona Rec. Center,” Adam explained, walking her in that direction. The short simple question and answer format was comforting to both Ellie and Adam. She was able to get the information she was sorely lacking and he didn’t have to struggle to try and make small talk.
“It’s huge,” she remarked.
“Yeah, and every building has at least one basement level so they’re all even bigger than they look. We’ve got ten thousand students and we’re fortunate to be able to satisfy their needs without having to over-develop.”
The campus did have a cozy feel, cut off even from the friendly Village of Charenton by the tall wrought iron fence, the woods on three sides, and the Charenton River on the fourth. With the school’s Governors and many of the professors making their homes on campus, Ellie felt at ease despite the events of a few hours previous. Unlike her hometown Pensacola, this was a place people gravitated to, and once they arrived, endeavored to stay. She hoped to be one of them.
“What do the dorms look like?”
“Uh, well, I guess we can take a walk through Moraxian’s hall, it’s the big H-shaped set of four dorms by the rec. center.” He led her past the main yard, which had also emptied, the ponyboys having retreated to parts unknown. Stabled, she guessed, and the mental image made her smile.
On their way in and up to the second floor they passed a few groups of students with Adam bulldozing through them like it was a game of red rover, and Ellie meekly sliding along behind them wondering if she should apologize for the disruption, but being too nervous to interact with anyone.
Adam poked his head into one of the open doors. “Is Ash around? Ash is one of the RAs,” he explained. “I wanted to tell him about Whitson.”
“He’s been called to the Campus Safety office,” a soft melodic voice called from the room. “Because of Whitson.”
“Right, makes sense,” Adam said. “Ash has been…keeping an eye on Whitson for a while.”
“This is perhaps a conversation best conducted in private,” Salihah said. “Will you please enter and shut the door?”
Ellie complied, rounding the frame and following Adam in to come face to face with what she could swear was an Egyptian Goddess. “Shut it please,” Sali said, pointing a long willowy limb towards the entrance. “And watch your step.” Ellie looked down to find a vertical board running around the walls of their room. The child within her squealed with glee when she saw that it was filled with sand.
“How do you know Ash has been keeping track of Whitson?” Sali asked, her face impassive. For someone whose voice radiated emotion, she was curiously stoic.
Adam shrugged. “I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.” He met Salihah’s gaze and a long silence entered the room, magnified by just now much noise the sand absorbed.
After almost a minute, Ellie could see that the discussion was going nowhere. It took her several more seconds, and many lip movements that might have seemed comical had either Adam or Salihah been paying attention, before she mustered the courage to speak.
“What is all this?” she gestured to the menagerie of artifacts covering the walls and most of the available surfaces.
“Ash was born in Harlem and abandoned,” Sali explained. “He doesn’t know who his parents are and he doesn’t know his ancestry, other than that it is African. He’s decided that in lieu of a singular heritage, he is going to explore them all.” As Ellie continued her visual tour of the room she saw various African pieces displayed, some of them modern like the South African flag, some older, like a framed picture of Nelson Mandela, and several replicas of tribal masks whose histories she supposed were ancient.
The room fell silent once more and Ellie found herself absent any more icebreakers. Luckily Adam’s phone broke the silence with three short buzzes. “The Headmistress is wrapping up, she said it’ll still be a bit, but to be nearby. Shall we head back to the student center, maybe get something to eat?”
“Sure,” Ellie said, realizing she had yet to eat at all that day save for what her chauffer had gifted her in his car.
They completed the return trip via the opposite sidewalk which took Ellie past the hulking Rebell Hall and as she looked through the glass windows of the doors she saw a large empty lecture hall beyond them. She stopped and walked closer to get a better look at where she’d soon be, noticing that several of the seats came equipped with eye-screws to which rope could be tied or leather restraints attached. Three weeks seemed far too long to wait for classes to begin.
As they neared the student center, Adam’s cell phone went off once more. “That will be the Headmistress,” he said, picking up his pace towards the offices on the second floor. “I’ll try to keep it quick,” he added.
This time instead of turning down the U-shaped wings where the individual offices sat, Adam opened one of the doors right off the main hallway revealing a large bay with chairs and tables stacked on dollies along one of the walls. In the center one table and four chairs had been set up, and once again Ellie’s heart fell.
It wasn’t that he was unattractive, he was certainly better looking than Whitson, although that was a low bar to clear. He just looked so unassuming. Tall, brown haired, his face impassive until she entered and she saw his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. He didn’t look like a Dom, he just looked like a man.
“Francis Elizabeth Seilmann,” Arrington said and Ellie had to hold back a snort, although she didn’t know which name it would have been at. She studied his lean face again, his wiry physique buried curiously under a long sleeve shirt and jeans. He looked like a Francis. Like Whitson he also didn’t rise to shake her hand, he merely studied her as she sat down.
“I thought he would be your choice,” Adam said, sitting beside Ellie.
“You know him?” Arrington asked.
“I know almost everyone,” Adam said. “It’s important.”
“It’s not your job,” Arrington replied.
“Well, technically speaking, neither is she. And yet, here we are,” Adam sent back. Ellie had never seen anyone talk to Arrington the way Adam had, and yet she merely smiled.
“Are you sure you’re submissive?” she purred.
“If I’m going to keep getting dicked around because of that shitty Submistress who, note, isn’t here doing her job, then I might as well learn to be good at it, and that means keeping apprised of students that aren’t submissive males.” There were notes of frustration and indignation in Adam’s voice and for a second she thought the retort might turn into a physical show of anger, but he collected himself.
“But more to the point, yes, I know who you are Francis, everyone knows who you are after the histrionics your former submissive put on at the end of last year and the histrionics your former submissive put on at the end of your first year.” A sly smile crossed Francis’s face as he looked down at the table, refusing to make eye contact with either Adam or Ellie.
“What happened?” Ellie surprised herself in finding the strength to speak up. “Was he a bad-”
“Quite the opposite,” Arrington said, cutting her off. “The girls adored him. They were both quite devastated. They both let everyone know it.”
“They were wonderful submissives, but they were boring,” Francis said, leaning forward. “I am searching for…” he broke into another grin. “I don’t know what I’m searching for, and I understand the problems that causes.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I keep hoping that the woman sitting across from me is what I’m searching for.”
Ellie was taken aback, the words were spoken with equal parts confidence and self-depreciation, not what she would expect to come out of a Dominant’s mouth. She expected words that would just melt her into submission, but Francis was so open and honest. He spoke to her like an equal. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Francis also has a list of rules prepared,” Arrington said, unfolding a sheet of paper. “I expect you will find them quite different than Mr. Brantley’s.” Ellie found only four numbers on the page and read them silently to herself.
- This is a relationship built on honesty, trust, and respect. You will show these qualities at all times.
- You are a human being. I expect you to think for yourself. I expect you to show initiative.
- You are also my property. I expect you to be compliant and fully invested in servicing me.
- Though mine supersede yours, this list will grow according to the needs and desires of both of us.
- Your safe-word is phallus, your slow-word is scrotum, mostly because I can’t think of anything less sexy than those two words popping out in a sexual situation.
She let out a short snorting laugh when she read the fifth one and looked around the table, first at Arrington, then at Francis. “That’s it?”
“I don’t know you,” Francis started. “And you don’t know me, and if I tell you to get on your fucking knees and suck my cock, it doesn’t mean anything at this point. Not to me. I’m not interested in crafting the best approximation of fantasy BDSM, I want something real.”
“Comments?” Adam asked after Ellie had been silent for several moments. “Additions, subtractions?” he offered.
Ellie felt a tingling rush through her body, one that was equal parts uncertainty and arousal. Not because of what Francis had just said, although that was part of it. It was clear that there was…something…simmering beneath his unimpressive surface. She wanted to know what.
“I…they…they sound good. Actually.”
“Are you sure?” Adam asked.
“Yes,” Ellie said with what she hoped was more finality.
“Good,” Arrington replied. She pulled out a small book and laid it on the table in front of Ellie. “Shawna, Ryan, and myself failed to give this to your earlier, it’s our student handbook. Typically the first time students set foot on campus is during orientation and they receive them then. Your case is obviously unique. Orientation isn’t for another three weeks but this should tide you over until then, and I think you are in fairly good hands with Francis.”
Off in the corner a printer Ellie hadn’t noticed blinked to life. Adam crossed the room, grabbed four copies of the rules and handed them out before sitting down once more.
“The main purpose for this meeting is finished,” Arrington said. “But for the purpose of settling your nerves by giving you some more information, and hopefully some cause for comfort, I would like to explain more about what happened to Mr. Brantley.”
“Shit, I probably should have done that,” Adam remarked.
“Two of his former submissives came forward with allegations that he ignored their safe-words on multiple instances. And several other individuals came forward with suspicions of the same, but no proof.”
“I don’t-“ Ellie started.
“That is rape. It doesn’t matter if it’s sex, if it’s flogging, if it’s public humiliation, the minute consent is no longer present, it becomes rape.” Arrington’s words cut into the quiet air of the room, none of the three present daring to look away. “Ignoring a safe-word, and breaching the trust of another individual is among the gravest offenses one can commit at this University. Unlike other Universities, we take all allegations seriously, and we handle them. Mr. Brantley is very likely going to prison.”
“Ellie, your submission is a gift,” Adam said. “And a Dominant’s control is a gift. You give, he gives. Both of your wants and needs should be met.”
“I apologize for mangling your arrival to such a degree,” Arrington said. “I should have taken a personal interest in your case all the way through as you have not had the benefit of our Freshman orientation or at least a more gradual introduction to campus. That error shall be rectified until I trust you are in good hands.” She glanced at Seilmann.
“No pressure,” he remarked, casting a smile in Ellie’s direction.
“Is there anything further?” Arrington asked. Ellie shook her head. “Good, then Mr. Cutter and I will leave you two. Adam rose and led Arrington from the room and Ellie found herself alone with her second owner.
“So…um…” Ellie started.
“Yes?” Francis’s voice was crisp and unafraid, a contrast to her own.
“What do I call you?”
He laughed, “Let’s walk, I heard your stomach rumbling and I figure you might want some food.” She nodded, she was, in fact, starving. “My biological mother died while giving birth to me. Her partner named me after her, which is why my middle name is Elizabeth. It’s unusual, and I like that, so I prefer that most call me Liz. But if it suits your submissive tendencies, you may call me Sir.”
“Yes Sir,” Ellie replied, almost on automatic.
Liz laughed. “Well you fit the profile for sure,” he said. “I’m excited to sink my hands into you. But for now, let’s get some food, and you can learn that I’m not a crazy person. Sound good?”