The Devil's Own Plaything, a lesbian RP

The setting is Farnham Institute, an exclusive all-women's college in Somerset...

Miss Juliet Tung, 35 (born in England, father Chinese, mother Italian), was recently appointed head of English there and she's settling into life at Somerset - a far cry from the inner-city institution from which she'd recently been dismissed (although the administration there had been good enough to allow her to quietly resign and avoid a scandal).

The change in setting could not have been in starker contrast. In Islington where she'd taught Art & History, the building was grey and forbidding and the students from the lower middle class.. Farnham College in Somerset was a sprawling late Georgian pile, built on the wealth of its philanthropist founder, the noted feminist writer, Mary Wells-Bryce.

At its core, Farnham projected a sense of academic and artistic achievement. At the same time, it carried with it a spirit of freedom and joy that was evident amongst the five hundred or so undergraduate women there. Juliet felt that very spirit and energy from the first moment she stepped through the huge oak entrance doors and was welcomed by a beaming Dean of Students, Miss Veronica Bennett.

'We're delighted to have you here,' enthused the surprisingly young Ms Bennett. Juliet placed her at just over forty. From her phone calls and letter, she had assumed Ms Bennett would be much older..

'I trust your journey was comfortable?" Her arm rested on the small of Juliet's back, as she delivered the standard introductory speech, the same one she recited for all new, fresh-faced and slightly nervous young professors. Her words, however, were somewhat lost on Juliet, for it surely wasn't all her imagination that the Dean's hand, not a moment before resting in a warmly formal greeting on the small of her back, had changed its angle from the horizontal to one of ninety degrees. Her fingers now seemed to settle, non-threateningly yet oh-so definitely on the upper part of Juliet's buttocks. At the precise moment she could feel her nervousness rise to the surface - and possibly embarrass herself utterly - Ms Bennett gave Juliet's rear a gentle pat and marched forth down the Italian marbled hall. She chimed on and on about how all who came into these venerated walls were indeed blessed by God. Juliet made an inner note that the middle-aged Ms Bennett had certainly been blessed by God. Her long shapely legs almost seemed to glide down the narrow passageways that led off here and there and the roll of her hips took more of her attention than the beautiful oak panels they passed by.

Juliet hoped her own slim figure would be preserved over the years by the gods of Farnham - and that perhaps also the recent past, including her sad, regretful “indiscretion” with young Alyssa Brinker, would be laid to rest and buried under pastures anew. Despite all this, memories of the place from which she'd fled and the near-disaster that was narrowly averted kept churning inside her. Then suddenly, her wandering mind was brought to a halt - just in time - as Ms Bennett swung open a classroom door and gestured for her to enter.

'Ladies. And Miss Elliot,' She said to the Professor at the chalkboard, 'Just popping in for a bit to introduce Miss Juliet Tung. I want you to say a very warm welcome to Miss Tung, our new head of English.'

Swallowing her first-day nerves, Juliet moved two steps forward as the class of fresh-faced 18 and 19-year-olds unisoned their greeting: 'Hello, Miss Tung' and this put her at ease. She smiled and nodded to the twenty or so young women seated there.

And as her gaze moved around the room, taking a mental register of the staring women, her heart skipped a beat and time froze as it does when one falls from a great height. She thought in a panic, 'No, it couldn't be Regina - that was impossible; Regina was many miles behind me now.' Yet out of all the faces that eyed her with that intense curiosity, one eclipsed all the others. It took every ounce of willpower for Juliet to wrench herself back to the situation in hand and to the voice of Ms Bennett.

As they left the classroom, her heart became a kettle drum whose thunderous crashes, she felt, must surely be audible to everyone. She couldn't help but look back as the door slowly closed behind her. All had settled back to attentiveness to the teacher calling out equations to the sound of scraping chalk, but one had not. And it was then that she KNEW it was Regina. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments - a moment that bespoke volumes more than anything Juliet had heard since arriving at the school.

As she continued the guided tour, it was as if everything and everyone she met along the way were coming from a far-off place. She had no thoughts other than the vision that had just presented itself before her. She thought of the next day - of her first day with her new charges. She was terrified and excited in equal measure and as she was shown into her new lodgings - a shared room with another unmarried professor - her only thought was to run back to London as fast as her legs could carry her.

Instead, she unpacked, laid out her clothes neatly and took from a discreet compartment the photograph that would remain with her until the day she died. Huge brown eyes looked back at her and, as ever when she gazed at Alyssa's portrait, her expression seemed to speak directly to Juliet's heart. This afternoon, it simply said: "Hello. I miss you. Are you being my good pet?"

In the end, she resolved to stay: to see what this new world had in store for her. To see if she had truly been blessed by God - or had become the Devil's own plaything.



The main characters...

1 - Juliet Tung.

2 – Regina Ann Valkyrie, 19, This is her first term at Farnham. Philosophy major/Economics minor. It was she who was Alyssa Brinker's secret lover at Islington. It was she who reported Juliet to the Dean there.

3 – Miss Wendy Stocks, 28, aggressive butch. Professor of Physical Education. An excellent footballer (soccer) and field hockey player. She and Juliet share lodgings. Wendy Stocks has a predatory nature with reference to her students. She likes rough sex. A strict disciplinarian. A good coach.


More roles need to be added....Alyssa, Ms Bennett, one or two of the players on the teams Wendy's coaching, a student who has a crush on Juliet, etc...

I smiled nervously at the other women as I followed my roommate, Patricia, through the throng of students on my way to my first class as an official college student. I had just met Patricia the night before, a tall willowy girl from Leeds. Patricia seemed nice enough, inviting me to help her unpack, but I was concerned about being able to connect with her; especially when she began to adorn her wall of the room with pictures of her and her boyfriend, a student at another university nearby. She had invited me to help, filling me in on every detail of her boyfriend and hers relationship. When she had asked me about my own romantic interests I had become silent; not sure how I could tell this girl of my own experience.

“Still single, I guess,” I had mumbled hoping that she wouldn’t probe.
She gave me a sympathetic smile, “well Regina, I’m sure you will find someone soon, I bet there will be tons of boys who would love to be with you. You are gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. What Patricia said was true; I had had many propositions from members of the male sex over my last years of secondary school. However, I had spurned all of their advances; my infatuation had been with my best friend Alyssa.

Alyssa and I had been the closest friends for as long as I could remember. Our family’s were almost intertwined; parties, holidays, family nights, the Brinker’s had been included in our plans and ours in theirs. Sometime in the summer before out last year it had happened.

It had been my eighteenth birthday, and our families had spent the weekend at a seaside resort. After the celebrations had died down Alyssa and I had snuck off to steal a bottle of wine that my parents had forgotten on the patio. Alyssa led me down the stone path to the beach, where we drank the wine.

Somewhere in the evening, out inhibitions dampened by the alcohol, we made love. For me it was the most fulfilling and sensual act of my life. My best friend became my lover and for me everything was right in the world. I had enjoyed her take charge approach to sex, and never once had thought about where or how she knew the things she did, I just accepted it. The summer had been more than magic to me, and when our final year at school began, I was in love struck haze.

Patricia pulled on my arm, pulling me back into the present. “Hey, girl,” she giggled as she guided me into the classroom. “You’ve got to be thinking about visiting those boys in Bath,” referring to the idea that she and I were going to visit her boyfriend over the weekend; a plan she had devised the night before as we were getting acquainted.

“Yeah,” I said, my cheeks rising. I wasn’t thinking of boys, not at all. “We will have a fantastic time I’m sure,” I forced a smile as she led me to a pair of seats along the enter aisle of the small lecture hall.

I sat next to the aisle as the room filled. The class was large, well for Farnsham. It was a required mathematics course, a subject that I hated with a passion. As I opened the unwieldy book, the instructor took her place behind the lectern. The instructor was an attractive middle aged woman who quickly introduced herself as Miss Elliot, before starting off on the customary spiel of the importance of mathematics.

While her voice wasn’t pleasant, the subject matter drew me back into my own thoughts. And as usual they centered around Alyssa. The beginning of the school year had been perfect for me. While our interests differed dramatically, Alyssa was definitely more of an artist, enjoying music, art, and theater, while I was what I’ve always been, an athlete. Still she never failed to make my heart pound harder when I came off of the football field and saw her waiting for me on the way to the lockers.

We kept our relationship secret, not wanting to be alienated by our peers. I often wished she would hold my hand as we walked together down the halls, and relished those secret moments when we passed out of view of the rest of the world and she would grasp it in hers. Things seemed so perfect for a time, until I noticed she had stopped waiting for me after practice and started to miss my games.

I still was at her functions; every time she sang or had a bit part in the theater I was happy to be in the front of the audience. However, it seemed that as the year passed, Alyssa found more and more excuses, many of which seemed false. Our lovemaking had changed as well, what was once an exploration between two naïve girls had given way to something else. She suddenly seemed so worldly; some of the games she had come up with seemed to me to be a bit out of what I considered normal. Not that I didn’t enjoy them, but I did find myself in some rather uncomfortable positions.

I often wondered at Alyssa’s change. When I would as her she would laugh, give me a hug, and tell me that she was still her, that nothing was going on. But I found myself curious and eventually started to try to find out what my best friend was doing when I wasn’t around. Then I found out the true meaning of curiosity killed the cat.

It was in the winter, and I had stayed late practicing goals in the indoor gym. Alyssa had promised me she would be there when I finished, but as the afternoon turned into evening, I hadn’t seen a sign of her. I must have checked my phone fifty times before I finally gave up at around seven. She had said she was going to be in the art studio, working on her “masterpiece”. I had figured she had just gotten involved with her work and had lost track of time.

As I approached the door to the large studio, I noticed that the light had been left on. My heart pounding, trying not to be angry with Alyssa, I grasped the door to the room and stepped in. The first thing I had noticed was the sound of a woman in the throes of passion. A sound I knew well, as I had found myself uttering the same sounds on many occasions. Embarrassed, I called out softly, “hello… hello” No one responded to my calls so I stepped further into the room.
Most of the room was filled with canvases of various sizes, all covered and on large easels scattered throughout the room. As I peered around the billowy objects, I saw the shape of a woman crouched on the floor, naked. As I moved around the blocking painting, I saw Alyssa, laid back on a pedestal in the center of the room, the other woman’s dark head buried between her legs. Her head was thrown back, as she cried in passion, the other woman obviously fingering her, repeatedly filling her sex with long strokes of her hand.

I stood there, shocked, my lovers name on my lips, but I had been unable to utter it. She raised her head and saw me, our eyes locking before I saw her smile at me; an orgasm ripping through her body. My gasp of shock must have alerted her partner, because the woman raised her head and turned to look at me, her lips still glistening with the evidence of Alyssa’s orgasm.

A change in Miss. Elliot’s tempo of speech brought me back to the classroom. When I looked up, she was turned toward the doorway, which was blocked to me by the head of another student. I watched as Ms. Bennett, the dean of students, walked into the classroom, followed by another woman. I felt my stomach drop as I recognized the other teacher, a beautiful woman with Asian features. A woman I knew well. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her face.
“Ladies. And Miss Elliot,' Ms. Bennett announced, 'just popping in for a bit to introduce Miss Juliet Tung. I want you to say a very warm welcome to our new head of English, Miss Tung.”

I watched as Miss Tung’s eyes scanned the classroom. I tried to sink down, behind the head of the girl in front of me, but our eyes locked and I saw a flicker of hatred flash through them. She recognized me.

I had changed my appearance after the school year. Chopping off my long red hair, which Alyssa had often braided for me prior to a soccer match, in favor of a shoulder length cut, letting my bangs grow out. I had also switched to contacts, forgoing the glasses I had worn for so long, since I had thought they had dulled the green in my eyes.. I couldn’t change my stature, still at 5’5 but I had lost some weight over the summer, thanks to an intense soccer camp I had taken abroad; part of my efforts to escape. My time at camp had also finally tanned my pale skin, well almost, definitely given me a darker complexion.

‘How can Miss Tung be here,’ I thought frantically. I hadn’t even given the woman another thought after I had ruined my relationship with Alyssa. I had honestly thought that she would still be close to Alyssa, the two of them having pleaded their love for each other as I had fled in tears from the art studio.
My mother had come to me, as I lay in my bed sobbing. She never fully understood my involvement with Alyssa, had only really listened to the part about me finding the two of them in the art studio. She had instantly called Alyssa’s mother, telling Mrs. Brinker her own version of the sordid details that I had sobbed out while my mother held me.

The next week Miss Tung had resigned; nothing of the scandal had ever leaked out. Alyssa was beyond the age of consent, so there were no charges pressed, however when I approached Alyssa after the teacher had left, she turned on me with a vehement anger. How dare I ruin her relationship with the woman she proclaimed to love? My stunned and hurt look only seemed to raise her ire; she swore that I was nothing to her; just a lousy fuck, one that she could manipulate into performing more and more degrading acts. She claimed that Miss Tung was a real woman, one who understood her desires and wants.

The relationships between our families felt the brunt of things. While I do not think that my parents ever fully understood my role, my mother surely suspected. Our fathers continued to do their golf outings, rugby matches and things of that sort without a second thought; but I could tell that my mother and Mrs. Brinker had definitely cooled their relationships.

Finally my senior year ended. I hadn’t seen Alyssa in months, she had avoided me at school and our family outings had all but ceased to exist. My parents surprised me with a trip to a soccer camp in the United States, and I happily fled. Upon returning to London, I decided to try to continue my escape. I enrolled at Farnsham; I knew that Alyssa was going to continue her education in London, so I found a university far removed.

Farnsham was also a school which had a well reputed womens football squad. This being my sort of choice, it made things all the easier to move across the country, away from what I felt was the source of my distress. I had tried to engage in a relationship at the camp that summer; an American girl from Boston and I had spent most of the summer together, but somehow I couldn’t recapture what I had felt with Alyssa; the girl had been turned off by some of the things which had excited me, things that Alyssa had had me do. In desperation I even tried to date a boy from the men’s camp. However, one date soon convinced me that I had no interested in boys.

Miss Tung had left the room by the time I refocused back on the present. Whispers and giggles surrounded me as I heard Miss Elliot attempt to regain control of the class after the disruption. I felt a touch on my arm, and looked to my left as Patricia gave me a concerned look.

“I’m alright,” I mumbled as she flashed me a reassuring smile, “its math after all, who actually pays attention to it anyways.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, obviously accepting my explanation, “Just think about this weekend, kind of a reward for us.”

I nodded, trying to smile, but my mind kept wandering back to Miss Tung. How could she possibly be here? What else had happened between her and Alyssa?

Wendy

First of all, let me explain how the "Unmarried Women's Quarters" are configured at Farnham. It's two to a suite. You enter through a single door off one of the main corridors which takes you into a short passageway, with doors right and left opening to the private quarters (bedroom and study) and a third door at the end to the shared bathroom. My quarters are through the door on the right.

Friday last, Dean Bennett invited me for tea. Most unusual. She doesn't like me and, but for the trophies my girls rack up, she'd have me tossed out of Farnham on my ear. She objects to my attitude. Thinks I'm not artsy-fartsy enough.

Of course, if she booted me, the alumni'd be up in arms. They like my winning teams. She knows it. I know it. So we pretty much mostly avoid each other. But this one time, she had me in to ask a favor. My suite-mate of the past five years, the Latin professor, Miss Scruggs, Mousy we called her, suddenly got married and resigned without so much as a two-week notice. The Dean wondered would I mind awfully if she assigned the new Head of English to Mousy's old lodgings. She mentioned in passing the new woman is somewhat "Asian-looking." I told her I don't care if she has an ass like an orangutan, as long as she doesn't complain about my girls going in and out at odd hours. Coach has to be a mother hen. Girls have all sorts of problems. You deal with them as they arise. That's how you maintain control, that's how you maintain team spirit.

Dean Bennett cracked the thinnest of smiles, "Ah, good. That's it then. Well, off you go."

"Fucking twit," I thought. I got up and left.



As it happened, Juliet Tung and I did not hit it off.

And it was mostly my fault, I suppose. I was in the midst of managing a problem with two of the girls on my football team. And in the midst of my managing it, here she comes, all la-de-da, in her own little world, skipping through the tulips, without as much as an "excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

As I said, I was in the midst of a problem. And in a nutshell, it was this. It concerned a star striker at Islington. She was one of the best and she'd made it known she was keen to transfer. Islington's footballers are not well-regarded and she wanted to go where there was a strong program. A number of good schools were after her, some promising her this and that, all sorts of perks. She chose Farnham because I was straight with her. Didn't promise her anything. Just showed her a list of the championships we'd won.

In the course of our chat, she quietly hinted she liked girls over boys. I think she was saying it to see where I stood. I told her, with a wink, if she kept her eyes open, she'd meet some very saucy women at Farnham who could glaze her sticky bun like no boy ever could. She laughed and signed on the dotted line right then and there.

I promised her a fair shot at first team striker. But only a shot. No guarantee. She'd have to beat out Wanda Case or Mildred Etherington.

Wanda and Mildred. Two of the toughest I ever coached. Good athletes, wonderfully gifted, horrible social skills. So many times have I told them, “Girls, it's important to be liked.” I've gone so far as to beg their boyfriends to work on them. The boyfriends sighed and gave me that “what can we do?” shrug.

Now to the point of all this. Earlier today, it came to my attention that late last night, a day or so after Regina arrived, Wanda and Mildred chose to deputize themselves as the official Farnham Footballers Welcoming Committee. They went to her room, woke the poor girl from her sleep, marched her out to the center of the practice field and, with flashlights pointed at her, forced her to disrobe and finger her naughty bits. After they had amused themselves, they left her standing naked in the cold. Fortunately, she was able to get back to her room undetected by sneaking up a back stairway.

I called Mildred and Wanda to my quarters. I told them to come in their footballers uniforms. After giving them a thorough ticking-off, calling them disgraces to the uniform, the school, themselves and the team, I tore their uniforms off them, leaving them in their underwear and stockings and shoes. I marched them to the bathroom down the hall.

Calling them “bitch” and “slut” and “cunt” and any other foul name I could think of, I dunked their heads in the toilet bowl one at a time, holding their faces in the water for a three count. While one was lying on the floor coughing and gagging, I dunked the other. Back and forth, I went. I was furious.

This was precisely the moment Miss Juliet Tung walked in on me. She was too shocked to say a word. She looked at Mildred gagging and choking on the tile floor. She looked at me, holding Wanda under for a three count. I looked up and thought to myself, “Wendy, don't lose control of the situation.”

I jerked Wanda's head out of the toilet bowl and dropped her onto the tile next to Mildred. I saw that Juliet Tung was wearing a pair of black pointed toe pumps. Lovely. I admit I do fancy ladies who wear those. I looked down at Wanda and Mildred. I snarled.

“Slither like snakes across the floor to the lady and kiss the tips of her shoes! Do it. Or else!”

Cooghing and spitting water, they did it. Juliet, mouth open but no sound coming out, watched the two girls kiss the tips of her shoes.

“Now get out of here, both of you. And if I ever hear of you bothering that poor girl again, God help you.”

They got to their feet and staggered out.

Except for the sound of Wanda and Mildred hurriedly dressing in the next room, there was silence. I decided to break the ice.

“So. They tell me you're Juliet Tung."

She nodded. I put down the toilet seat lid and sat. I looked up at her.

“I imagine you think I'm a terrible person."

“I. I don't know what to think.”

“Ah. That must mean it's still open to debate, whether I'm terrible or not. May I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

"When the two young ladies kissed your toes, did that arouse you?"

She gasped and, with a horrified look, turned and scurried back down the hall to her quarters. I heard her door slam.

"Welcome to Farnham, Juliet Tung."

Bumpity

Veronica Bennett

Pleased to meet you – hope you guessed my name

Perfection and respectability. Those were the words that most people would use to describe Veronica Bennett. Hailing from an impeccable upper-middle class background she seemed to be the very blueprint for everything that Farnham Institute embodied. Veronica was pretty in a non-presumptuous kind of way. She dressed conservatively but with the kind of personal touch that made her seem approachable rather than the stern figure of authority that her station would imply. Her husband for the past thirteen years was the redoubtable Captain Sean Bennett, DSC, of the Royal Marines and the father of her daughter Elizabeth.

It was a good life; the salary was high enough to keep her wardrobe up to date, the wine cellar stocked and allowing her to indulge her passion for music. Veronica’s tastes were eclectic and her collection ranged from Shostakovitj to Iron Maiden. The latter being the music of choice as she was putting the finishing touches to the report on student recruitment that was to be presented come Friday. Veronica sipped her wine and lit another cigarette as she critically scanned the document on her laptop. It had been an interesting day, for a number of different reasons; Juliet Tung being one of them although not perhaps the most enjoyable so far. Then again little Juliet might just be the kind of distraction that would hold a lasting interest. Veronica considered herself quite a lot less angelic than her appearances might suggest. It was not a deception of her own making; rather it was a case of people wanting to be fooled. Veronica blew out a cone of smoke and reached for her glass, taking another sip of the rich red wine as he considered the new head of English. It paid to be in the know, Veronica smiled as she saved the document to her hard drive, and it had been particularly rewarding in the case of little Juliet. Indiscretions. That was such a wonderful understatement and one which harboured such a variety of interesting outcomes. The information that she had received was sketchy but it had been quite enough to provide Veronica with a picture of what lurked beneath Juliet Tung’s composed surface. It had been a bit of a gamble, verging on the reckless to pat her bottom, but the reaction she had received had been confirmation enough. Juliet Tung could pretend to have reformed her ways but she wasn’t fooling Veronica.

but what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game

All due respect to Mssrs Jagger and Richards, but it was not a game, at least not to Veronica. At the end of the day it was about being the alpha female, the one who led the pack. Farnham Institute, as every other reasonably academic body was a hotbed for intrigue and backstabbing. Veronica had kept up an air of splendid indifference to the in-house politics. Know your enemy and always chose your own battlefield. It as simple enough, never appear too threatening, never too keen, let them think you were naive and soft-hearted.

Apart from being privy to Juliet’s sordid affairs at Islington there was another matter that kept returning to Veronica’s mind as she poured another glass of wine. For all intents and purposes it had been part of her ordinary duties as Dean of Students, but seeing as the matter at hand had concerned one of her most promising charges it had been thoroughly enjoyable. Her mobile chirped, the display lighting up as another message arrived. There had been a steady stream of them throughout the evening. Sean had sent a couple from his posting in Afghanistan; which was another part of their routine of keeping up appearances. The lip service that the Armed Forces paid to a tolerant attitude to gays had merited the little charade. While it might be, at least theoretically, possible for a gay man to earn respect as an officer, promotion came easier for one with a wife and child. Hence their little game, which not only suited both Sean and herself but also had the additional benefit of providing Lizzie with two parents, which seemed quite the rare commodity these days.

As it turned out the message she had received was neither from Sean nor Lizzie but from the distraction earlier today. She smiled as she read it without even the slightest thought to send a reply. It was one of the students whom had requested a meeting with her. Sigrid Jensen, a Norwegian exchange student and a politics major. Veronica had put it down to being nothing more than homesickness, which seemed to be quite the common feature among the internationals that attended Farnham Institute. It was therefore quite refreshing, well apart from the bawling that was, to find out the real reason. Apparently Ms Jensen had had a run-in with Wendy Stocks.

Veronica sighed as she contemplated her supposed colleague. While certainly gifted as far as the nastier side to football was concerned. As far as anything else went, Wendy Stocks was pretty much a Neanderthal. The thought brought about a rather uncharacteristic giggle; it was not hard to picture Ms Stocks bashing an unsuspecting woman over the head and carrying her back to her cave. While Veronica didn’t object to her colleague’s sexual preferences, which would have been hypocritical in the extreme, she did find Wendy Stock’s approach less than appealing. Subtlety was definitely not Ms Stock’s forte.

As far as Sigrid Jensen was concerned it had to do with some tiff or other regarding the football team. From what Veronica had ascertained, Ms Jensen had been a member of the squad but due to her academic pursuits she had had to resign from the same, and thusly incurred Ms Stock’s ire. While that in itself was not something out of the ordinary; after all Wendy Stocks had the temperament and the social graces of Attila the Hun. The problem had rather to do with the rest of the horde who had decided that Ms Jensen would be shown the error of her ways. While things had not yet got out of hand, it had been a thoroughly unpleasant couple of days for the unfortunate Norwegian girl, so much that she was considering leaving Farnham.

To have a student leaving was never a good thing and coupled with a rather irate e-mail from said student’s father it started to approach the disastrous. Ms Jensen’s father had been a generous benefactor to the school, and if Sigrid were to leave so would the donations dry up. The other thing was of course that he carried a lot of political clout from his time as the UN special envoy to more conflict ridden places than one could shake a stick at. There had been a hint that if the matter was not resolved, some very influential people within Her Majesty’s Government would start asking questions and that something that Farnham Institute could do without. She had promised Mister Jensen to sort out the matter and as far as Sigrid was concerned, she had offered her the position of her part-time PA. It was not merely out of altruistic reasons that Veronica had tossed that bone to the young woman; the real reason was that it might just prove to be the kind of thing that would lead to her opening up and confiding in her which in turn would mean getting the goods on Wendy Stocks. If such weren’t readily forthcoming then a wink and a nod and young Ms Jensen might just be able to get Ms Stocks into a position where she would undoubtedly find that resigning would be the easy option.

It had almost been too easy: a bit of the sympathetic side and the patented rubbing of Ms Jensen’s hand that progressed to an embrace and before the poor thing realised it, Veronica had her eating out of her hand. The message she had received had been just another alcohol-infused token of Sigrid’s gratitude, for the umpteenth time thanking her for having promised to sort out the situation, and with every sent text the girl had become just a little bit friendlier. It would indeed be interesting to see how this would pan out, perhaps even more so than what would happen to little Juliet now that she had landed herself in the hotbed of intrigue that was Farnham Institute. For a moment Veronica almost felt sorry for the poor thing. She had indeed been skittish, like a deer trapped in the headlights of an approaching car, which would most definitely appeal to Wendy. Veronica had to suppress a laugh as she remembered the fact that the new head of the English department would be boarding with professor Stocks.

Veronica grinned as she saved the document she had been working on and switched the laptop off. It would be safe to say that both Wendy Stock and Juliet Tung would come to appreciate Jean-Paul Satre’s laconic statement that L'enfer, c'est les autres. Though as far as Veronica was concerned Steve Harris had put it more eloquently as “Hell ain’t a bad place. Hell is from here to eternity”.

I struggled to maintain my focus through the remainder of Miss. Elliot’s lecture, as I found my mind continuing to wander back to the presence of Miss Tung, and to Alyssa. I was filling in the corner of my notebook with circles, when I felt Patricia’s hand on my shoulder. The rest of the room was filing out the door and into the hallway. “Regina… Regina,” I heard Patricia say as she nudged me, “Hey lets get out of here.”

I followed her out into the hallway where she turned to me saying, “My next class isn’t until after lunch, how about yours?”

I stared at her for a moment; then pulled my schedule out of my bag, scanning the list of dates and times. “Existentialism at 11, with Ms. Peel,” I replied.

I had scheduled as many of my courses in the morning, in order to keep my afternoons free for practice. Patricia and I gravitated to the student center, where we shared a muffin. Patricia continued to prattle on and on about her boyfriend and the excursion she was planning for us over the weekend. I nodded approvingly at the right times, while sipping the glass of milk that I had ordered.

At ten till I excused myself and hurried to my next class. The idea of spending a weekend with Patricia’s boyfriend’s friends made me feel uncomfortable, but I did not want to alienate the only person I knew at the school. I wondered how friendly she would be if she knew that I had no interest in men. Entering the classroom for my next class I was pleasantly surprised to find only about twelve other girls.

By the end of the class, Julie Tung had almost completely left my mind. I was excited about the content and the class flew by. I had read several of the assigned books before, but anxiously looked forward to being able to discuss them in a more structured setting. I returned to my room in a much better mood than I had been before the class.

Patricia had class that afternoon, so the room was mine to myself. Lying on my bed, I soon found myself tuned into some trashy American talk show on the television. Patricia’s entrance brought me awake, I must have fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the show; not that it had been that educational of television anyways.

Glancing at the clock, I was aghast to find that I was late. While there was no set practice today, I had meant to get to the field house by three. Coach Stocks had been very direct in informing me that regardless of my football background, I was still going to have to prove myself to her and the team. I started rummaging through my closet for a clean set of practice clothes, knowing I wouldn’t have time to change if I wanted the coach to see me.

Without thinking, I disrobed. Patricia was telling me about her class, some period literature offering mostly containing the works of Shakespeare. I had removed my shirt and bra, and was in the act of sliding my sports bra over my head when I saw she was staring at my breasts.

“Oh, wow,” she said, her voice low and sounded like she was in awe of something, “did those hurt?”

“Hurt?” I asked, before I realized she was talking about the barbells which adorned my nipples. Alyssa had always told me how erotic she found pierced nipples, but I had been too frightened of the pain to explore the possibilities. In America, I had met several other players who had gone through the process, and one afternoon I had worked up the courage to visit one of the more reputable body piercers in Boston, where I had gone to the football camp.

I nodded, responding to her question. “It was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had,” I followed up, “but, not so much the first day, but for days afterwards. Please, don’t say anything about them.” I had seen several girls around campus sporting various piercings and tattoos, but they were definitely in the minority, and this was a more conservative university. I didn’t want to get singled out for being; well being anymore strange than I already was.

I finished pulling my sports bra over my breasts; following it with a clean jersey; slipping on a pair of shorts I grabbed my bag with the rest of my gear. Glancing at Patricia, I saw she was still starring at me, an almost dumbfounded look on her face. I blew her a kiss, and with a smile headed out the door and to the field house.

As luck would have it I found the rookie goal tender, Allison, just beginning to stretch as I arrived on the field. She gave me a wave; we had met the previous Friday when we both came to the first practice. She was a husky blond Irish girl and purported to be one of the best goal tenders in the UK. I traded out my shoes for my cleats, and jogged over to where Allison was sitting on the ground, her legs spread as she touched her nose to her knee.

“Hey Allison,” I said, as I plopped on the ground next to her. She returned my smile and switched to other leg. I began to limber up, continuing the conversation. “Is it just us?”

“Looks like it,” she replied, “don’t expect the rest of the girls to show up until Coach does. I figured to get a few laps in and limber up. Have you seen Vanessa play before? She’s going to be tough for me to displace.” At the last comment Allison flashed me a smile; she was talking about the current starting goal tender Vanessa Redding, a tall muscular black woman from South Africa. Vanessa was a senior, and reputed to be one of the top players in Britain.

“Yeah, she’s awesome, and at least she’s a cool person, unlike Mildred and Wanda,” I replied. I could hear the note of disgust in my voice, as I spoke the names of my own completion. Mildred and Wanda were the current starting striker and second striker; the positions I myself coveted.

“Cunts, both of them,” came Allison’s reply; echoing my disgust. Her accent brought a giggle from me, but I knew exactly what she met. Allison and I had been introduced to the starters on Saturday night by Coach Stocks; as both of us were major prospects for the team.

Coach had been blunt though. She had no intention on just letting either one of us walk on the field. I looked forward to proving myself and was confident that I could outplay either one of my new nemesis.

Apparently, they did as well, because they had invited me to go out with them later Saturday night. At first the evening was grand, both girls obviously experts at playing the role of the two faced bitches. I will admit, against my own better judgment as well as the advice of Vanessa, I had went into the evening hoping to make some new friends and team mates. They had been kind, listening as I talked about some of my more adept performances. I had just been trying to fit in, but it soon became apparent that they had no interest in letting me into their little circle.

That night, I had heard a knock on my door. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was almost one in the morning. Sleepily I opened my door, and too my surprise I found both Wanda and Mildred standing outside my door; both dressed in light jackets and carrying a large torch.

“Hey,” I mumbled, still not quite away.

“Hey back rookie,” came Mildred’s nasal voice. It was one of those that can really grate on you, and God forbid she laughed; it was one of those horrible high pitched laughs.

“Hey Regina,” voiced Wanda, her voice was cold. “Why don’t you throw on a robe and come on down to the field with us? We’d like to see some of your moves.”

To be honest, Wanda frightens me a little bit. From what I had seen, Mildred was nothing more than a lackey, but Wanda was a full on bitch. I had already heard rumors throughout the evening of her ability to humiliate her competition. There was even a rumor of her planting drugs in the locker of the starting second striker her freshman year; resulting in the girl’s suspension and Wanda’s own promotion to the varsity squad.

“But it’s one o’clock in the morning,” I tried to point out. This resulted in a chortle from Mildred, but Wanda met my eyes, her stare echoing her voice.

“Exactly,” she countered, “and that’s when we really see what you are made of. Now get your ass down to the practice field.” Her voice had raised an octave or two and I again felt a chill run down my spine. Strangely though, I also felt myself become aroused, her voice had the exact same tone that Alyssa had begun to pick up as our relationship had progressed, the one just before she was going to have me do something naughty.

So I went, fully knowing that I was going to be humiliated in front of my potential teammates. As we walked to the practice field different scenarios sped through my mind. Alyssa had often had me pose for her artwork, most of the times after school. She had asked me to hold different poses, ones she had found on the internet; different variations of kneeling, standing and lying down. I was a bit surprised when I found that there was no one else on the field.

The hazing had been predictable; the two women were completely unoriginal when it came to their game. I soon found myself standing nude in front of the two of them; I think that were a bit more than surprised at my compliance. Their verbal jabs had been weak as well, their pathetic attempts at humiliating me becoming more of a sexual frustration for me than anything more. However, I was cautious; not wanting to seem too eager, after all I didn’t want my class mates or my team mates to know exactly how depraved I really was.

After about an hour of their torment, they tired of the game and headed back to the dorm. It was then that I realized that they had taken my clothing, meager though it was; the robe, a t-shirt and a pair of thong panties. Now, a real stab of fear ran through my body; the one thing I did not want to happen was to be in trouble my first night at school. I was sure that being nude in public was more than enough for Coach to suspend me.

I knew which room was Vanessa’s, so I snuck through the bushes until I reached the side of the dormitory. I saw the light in the window of the dorm mother, Ms. Calloway, but rumor had it that she was more interested in her soap opera digest and late night telly than in the comings of her charges. I knocked softly on Vanessa’s window. Not hearing a sound, I knocked again, louder this time. I was rewarded with the glow of a lamp, dulled by the curtains over the window.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Vanessa’s dark face against the pane of glass. For some reason, I felt much more aware of my nudity if front of the beautiful black goal tender, than I had in front of my two tormentors. Her window slid back, and I heard my name.

“Regina, what the hell are you doing outside? Oh shit, did you go out with Wanda and Mildred?”

“Yeah,” I answered, trying to fade back into a shadow made by a large bush. “I guess I met the official Farnham Footballers Welcoming Committee. Can you please let me in? They took my clothes and my key.”

She became quiet, but only for a moment. Then I heard her reply, “Sure, I’ll meet you at back door.”

I snuck back around the building, and was thankful when I saw the back door propped open, a muscular, yet feminine black arm holding it open. I took a deep breath, and stepped through the light by the door, allowing Vanessa to see me in all my naked glory. As I rounded the corner I stopped short. The woman was beautiful, tall muscular. Her white nightgown was a perfect contrast against her dark skin. I noticed her eyes were scanning my body as well, and I felt a flush rise to my face as well as the twinge in my stomach that told me I was horny.

I hoped she would comment, but instead she handed me a towel; which I quickly wrapped around my body. She said softly, “Was it Wanda and Mildred?” I nodded, and she turned and headed down the hallway. I followed, praying silently that this beautiful woman would do something: make a pass at me, invite me in her room, anything, yet when we reached her doorway she turned back and plainly said.

“I’ll talk to Coach about it in the morning. I’m sorry; sometimes those two bitches get a stupid idea in their head.”

I wanted to say, to plead, “No, its fine, just take me in and fuck me,” but instead I nodded meekly and snuck up the stairs to the safety of my own room. I found my clothes thrown in a pile in front of my door and scrounging through them; I found the key to my room and entered. Apparently, the hazing hadn’t stopped at the practice field; my room had been trashed, with my sundries sprayed all over my bed and my side of the room. Thankfully, my roommate wasn’t due to arrive until the next day, and I stripped the soiled sheets from the bed, and fell asleep.

I hadn’t heard if Vanessa had really gone to Coach over the matter, I hoped she hadn't. I had already learned that she was the real leader of the team; processing both technical prowess as well as that natural charisma Wanda was obviously lacking. I also hadn’t seen her since that night, but she had definitely fueled my fantasies, well until I saw Miss Tung, whose appearance had brought back my memories of Alyssa.

Allison had was on her feet, jogging in place while I finished my stretches. She held out her hand, and helped me to my feet. Her grip was strong, and she flashed me a big toothy smile as we began to job in tandem around the practice field. On our second lap, I saw the several of our team mates begin to emerge from the locker room; Wanda and Mildred trying, unsuccessfully, to hold court with the girls. As we came abreast with the group, both girls looked at me; Wanda wore a look of hatred as she turned to her few minions.

“You know that bitch freshman is definitely a slut, she has her nipples pierced; probably the only way to get anyone to notice her flat chest. Oh, and I think her friend is a dyke, look at her, like that Irish dyke could interest a man.”

I laughed as Allison flipped both of her middle fingers to the two women. The bulk of the team had gravitated away from Wanda’s bitchy voice and was beginning to limber up for practice. Vanessa appeared, and walked to what seemed to be the center of the team. Allison and I jogged to the group surrounding her. “Circle up ladies,” she commanded, “Let’s get loose before Coach gets out here.”

Sigrid Jensen

It was just too much. Too many classes. Too heavy a workload. I always do this to myself. At the start of the term, I go really crazy. All the classes sound so exciting and I enroll in every course that suits my fancy. By the second day, I look at myself in the mirror and I scream, "Sigrid, you've done it again!"

This time, I decided that Native American Art, Aristotelian Aesthetics, Religions of East Asia and Football would have to go. Tomorrow, I would drop all four.

At Farnham, the "course drop" process goes like this. You go to Administration for the drop form, take it to the appropriate professor for signature and file the completed form at the Dean's Office.

So tomorrow came and, clutching the four forms, I visited the offices of the Professors, each in turn. Native American Art, signed off. Aristotelian Aesthetics, check. And Religions of East Asia, check.

Last was Football. Miss Wendy Stocks. She took one look at my drop form and threw it back at me.

"I'm not signing this."

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Are you hard of hearing? I said, I'm not signing it."

"But - -"

"You know what your problem is? You're a pussy. A cunt. Do you know why? Because you can't handle the least adversity. One little difficulty and you quit, you give up. You know what you're going to end up being? A loser. Now get out of here and stop bothering me."

I stood there, my mouth open in shock, for the longest time.

"I said get out of here, you loser!"

I ran out of the locker room in tears.

Later that day, a sympathetic secretary in Administration forged Coach Stocks' name on the form and I was out.

Or so I thought.

That night about seven, I was having a sandwich by the self-serve outside the Humanities Building. I was sitting alone and the court was deserted.

Two of Coach Stocks' first team footballers walked up. One sat on either side of me on the bench. They pressed against me. They glared at me.

The girl on my left took the sandwich from my hands and stuffed it in my mouth. The girl on my right reached between my legs and squeezed my crotch.

"That's a dirty little cunt you got. A filthy cunt, in point of fact."

She looked over at her mate.

"Isn't that right? About her cunt, I mean?"

"Absolutely. It's a dirty, stinky cunt, all right."

She took her hand away.

"I want you to do something. I want you to put your hands over your filthy cunt. I want you to cover it. Because we don't want to smell it anymore."

I was shaking so badly I nearly peed right there on the bench. I put my hands inside my panties and covered my sex.

"Now finger yourself deep like the stinky little whore you are."

I shut my eyes, thinking to myself, "This isn't happening!" I fingered myself, hoping to God this would be as far as it went.

Just then, I heard footsteps. I opened my eyes to see a Security Guard in the distance. The two girls saw him, too. They got up and sauntered off, laughing. I was too embarrassed to call for help. I swallowed my sandwich and walked back to my room, sobbing.

That night, I called Daddy. He was in Rwanda working with the UN International Criminal Tribunal. The connection was faint, but I was able to give him the gist of what had happened before the line went dead. He said he would handle it. He always does. I wondered if I should have asked him to find me another college.

Amazingly, the next day, I was summoned out of English Constitutional History to meet with Miss Veronica Bennett. A tea lady ushered me into the Dean's study, all dark wood and musty books. Over the sound system, a song by Norway's own Marion Raven played. An open book on the table displayed intricate sketches of Victorian ladies in corsets and little else. I blushed.

Then, outside in the hall, the click of very high heels on the hardwood floor. The door opened and Ms Bennett herself entered.

"Miss Jensen."

"Ma'am."

"Call me Miss Bennett. Ma'am makes me sound so frightfully old."

She gestured me to sit. She clapped her hands twice and the music volume turned down and the lights dimmed slightly. She sat next to me, took my hand in hers.

"Your father phoned. He told me what happened. I'm so awfully sorry about the football people here. Sometimes they get out of hand and need to be reined in. Suppose you tell me what happened."

I spoke haltingly at first, nervous, at a loss for words, but her eyes, her smile, her encouraging nods, loosened my tongue and my wits. I told her about Miss Stocks' calling me a "cunt" and her footballers forcing me to finger myself and how frightened and humiliated I felt. I went on and on, I cried a lot, as she smiled and nodded and tut-tutted and stroked my hand and it felt so warm and secure being next to her. And for some reason, I lost all sense of time. When I opened my eyes, it was dark. The sun had gone down and I was no longer sitting in the chair. I was kneeling with my head in her lap and she was stroking my hair, smiling down at me . I felt as though I had been somehow hypnotized and now I was starting to come out of it.

"How did i get here, Miss Bennett?"

"I don't know, dear one. Do you want to get up?"

At that moment, my legs felt strange, weak and useless, as if they were there only for kneeling and crawling. Curiously, in my mind, I felt as if I had found my proper place in the order of things. All was peaceful. All was serene. All was right with the world. I looked up at her and shook my head.

"No."

"Then you may stay in my lap as long as you like."

I shed more tears. I poured out my soul to her, telling her I never had a mother. Or a big sister. Always nannies. And while they were good to me, it's never the same as having a mother.

"I could try to be your mother. Or your big sister. Would you like that, dear one?"

"Oh yes. Yes!"

Bumpity

Juliet Tung

Her hands hadn't stopped shaking for almost a half hour after the ghastly encounter in the restroom. The way those girls had been used, so completely controlled and beaten down by that...that woman was a horror. It seemed to have been some discipline issue but such barbarism was intolerable, particularly at such a prestigious institution as Farnham.

Juliet had retreated to the library. Such places had always been something of a haven for her. She had gone to one of the desks tucked away in the stacks for studying and sat down with her class planner and orientation materials and done nothing more for several minutes than try to steady her breathing.

She thought about taking the matter to Miss Bennett but rejected the idea. Juliet had not even one day at the school yet; hardly in a position to make such accusations and be believed. It would only draw the vicious woman's attention to her and she did not wish that one bit. Her past would undoubtedly be brought up as well and that must never happen.

"When the two young ladies kissed your toes, did that arouse you?"

Juliet shivered at the recollection. She closed her eyes and let out a soft, stifled whimper. That was the worst of it all. It made her feel dirty and helpless. Just like Alyssa had so many times.

Juliet lay on her stomach, nude, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles bound. She wriggled awkwardly across the floor towards another nude woman, much younger, who stood with a riding crop dangling in one hand.

Alyssa slid one foot forward, her pointed black heels the only clothes she had on, "Kiss them, slut."

She felt a few tears starting to well up and blinked them away. Oh, would it ever stop hurting to think about Alyssa? It seemed she would have no shortage of reminders. The brute of a football coach was one matter but then there was Regina to consider. Regina who had nearly destroyed her once before. What would the girl do now?

Idly, she flipped through the pages of her welcome material. The bitter truth was that Regina's actions were out of her control entirely. The best thing Juliet could do would be to avoid her whenever possible and act with the utmost professional comportment otherwise. Her teaching duties would force them into contact but it would stay in the classroom and be nothing more than that.

The same applied to the sadist as well. They taught entirely different subjects after all and would have no interests in common. It should be easy enough to not give offense and avoid notice.

Her eyes flicked to the current open page in her booklet; her housing assignment. She read the line several times before actually processing it and then gaped in horror. "Oh, God, no," she gasped.

Next to her room number was the name of the woman with whom she'd be sharing the space: Football Coach Wendy Stocks.

Alyssa

Alyssa, as controlling of her pets as she was, never enjoyed being away from them too long. The same could be said of her current pet, Juliet. Alyssa was the extremely jealous, possessive stalkerish type. On a whim, she decided to take a day trip from her school to check on Juliet.

Being as sneaky as she was, she managed to use some contacts to find out exactly where Juliet's office was to be, not to mention get a key for it. She managed to slip past the students and into Juliet's office, taking a seat behind the desk to lie in wait.

She waited eagerly to reunite with her pet for some torturous arousing fun. It had been a long while since Alyssa had last gotten any and she planned to get plenty while in town.

After a while, she decided to search through Juliet's desk for hints as to what Juliet was up to, hopefully besides teaching. After finding nothing in the first few drawers, she hit the jackpot. She found many things that told her she was definitely missed by her pet. From erotically kinky letters and emails sent by her to Juliet, to a picture of Alyssa in her latex mistress gear (which she just happened to be wearing under her coat), and a tear-stained unfinished letter to Alyssa from Juliet.

All of these brought a wicked smile to her lips, she definitely couldn't wait to surprise her pet now. Just then, she heard a key in the door and her grin grew. She sat back in the chair and waited for the door to open

Professor Wendy Stocks

Friday night - 8:50pm

If you were to query Professor Wendy Stocks on lesbians at Farnham, she'd claim there were more bent ladies there than you could shake a stick at. She'd say with a wink it's the femmes who get the lioness's share of available pussy while the others spend quiet nights strumming a Mary Five Fingers tune on their little pink instruments.

Of course it's a vast self-delusion on her part. The overwhelming majority of Farnham women dream of being chased by a smiling boy with an erect penis. In an otherwise somberly ordered landscape, the one bit of chaotic fantasy allowed on campus are thoughts of gleeful heterosexual copulation.

So with all that, what's a lonely dyke to do on a Friday night? The local clubs and pubs catering to women of sapphic sensibilities were not an option. Imagine a worst case scenario: Professor Wendy Stocks being hauled in along with a pottymouthed lesbian tart on a drunk-and-disorderly charge. What would the Farnham Board of Directors say?

The other known like-minded females at Farnham were few and far-between. Professor Stocks was of course aware of Miss Bennett's bisexuality, but the Dean's tastes ran more to artsy-fartsy girls. In her view, the athletic types were smelly and rude, to be relegated to the outer darkness where ignorance and bad taste prevailed.

Ah, the athletic types. The world inhabited by Wendy Stocks. And among her student Footballers, there were precisely two lesbians. Two. One was the nigger first team goalkeeper. Wendy couldn't stand her. It was the horridly offensive odor. The girl cooked a putrid Bantu root and yam porridge on a hotplate in her room that made her breath smell like rotten eggs. Wendy wondered how in hell could anyone fuck in that stink?

Th second was the new girl, Regina Valkyrie. Lovely name. Lovely girl. Red hair, about five and a half feet tall, slim tanned legs. And best of all, did she not admit at the interview she fancied girls? Well good. So Friday morning, Wendy sent a note off to Regina's mailbox at the dorm. The note directed her to report to Professor Stocks' quarters at 9pm sharp in her Footballer uniform.

Wendy glanced at the clock, ten to nine. She checked herself in the mirror, noting with approval the trim, hard body in the familiar blue track suit. She smiled a nervous smile. Yes, everything's in order.

Then, right on schedule, the light rap at the door.



Friday night – 9:15pm

Wendy and Regina, seated in the study. Wendy pours red wine.

“I admit I overreacted with Wanda and Mildred.”

Regina takes a sip of wine.

“Not that they didn't deserve a harsh chastisement, but I may have come down too hard. A punishment is a means for the offender to recognize the error and adjust behavior accordingly. You see that, don't you?

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“But when it's extreme, the results are anger, blame and confusion. I fear that's the case. It's one of the reasons I sent for you. I want you to spend the night here.”

Regina's face showed a look of sudden surprise.

“If you're here tonight, they can't get at you. And if they can't get at you when they're at their angriest, then by tomorrow they will have cooled off and I'll be able to reason with them, you follow?”

“Yes, but why don't we just call the Police, Ma'am?”

“Not a good idea. First, Mildred's a policeman's daughter. Her father is Chief Constable of Reading. Second, Wanda and Mildred, despite their difficult natures, are key elements of a winning program, you follow me?”

“Yes, Ma'am”

“The team always comes first. You and I, Wanda and Mildred, we all come second. Immutable law of nature. Team first. Say it.”

“Team first.”

“Good. Now for the other reason you're here. You're not kicking well. No power in the leg. You lost weight over the summer. It made you fast, but it took away from your strength. Not good, that. I need you strong. Else I can't see you challenging Wanda and Mildred.”

“But - -”

Wendy holds up a hand for silence.

“I'm going to teach you some exercises. You're going to do them right here on the floor. We'll get some strength back in you. Clear?”

Regina nods. Wendy stands, takes out an object the shape and size of an egg. She holds it up.

“Now take off your outfit.”



Friday night – 9:30pm

Regina face up on the floor. She's naked. The egglike object rests on her tummy. With her hands behind her head, she raises her legs, keeping them together and straight. Wendy barks a command.

“Apart”

Wendy opens her legs, keeping them straight and raised.

“Together”

She closes them. Wendy takes out a pair of weights on velcro straps.

“Now let's increase the difficulty.”

She attaches the weights to Regina's ankles.

“Apart, together, apart, together.”

She takes out a second set of velcro weights, attaches them. The strain shows on Regina's face.

“Apart, together, apart, together, apart. And hold it there. Now we're going to add a distraction”

As Regina strains to hold her legs open, Wendy takes the egg and presses it to the girl's sex. Regina gasps in surprise, as Wendy expertly opens her lips and slides it inside.

“Together, apart, together, apart.”

Wendy holds up a remote, presses a button. Regina gasps and shudders and shakes.

“Ignore it, girl. Keep doing the exercise. Together, apart, together, apart.”

“Oh God, Ma'am. It's making me - -”

“I said, ignore it. You will not cumm. Is that clear? Together, apart, together, apart.”

“Oh God! Oh God!”



Friday night – 10:30pm

Regina up off the floor in push up position, a ten pound weight in the small of her back.

“Down”

Regina lowers herself to within an inch of the floor, keeping her body rigid.

“Up.”

She raises herself.

“And hold it.”

Regina holds it. Wendy slides two tiny candles under Regina and lights them. Then she presses the remote. Regina gasps and shudders.

“Please, Ma'am. I need to - -”

“No! You will hold it! And you will not cumm!”



Friday night – Midnight

Subdued lighting. The velcro straps and the weights lay scattered on the floor. On the nightstand, the two candles flicker.

Wendy and Regina lie naked side by side on the bed. The mood is post-coital. Wendy playfully sets the egg on Regina's tummy. Regina emits a soft moan.

"What happened, Ma'am? What did I do?"

Wendy takes a Kleenex, begins wiping Regina's crotch area.

"You came, girl."

"But I never came like that before."

"Well, girl, you were never used by someone who understood you until tonight. You came magnificently. Look at all this sticky stuff that bubbled out of your little vent. You erupted like a volcano. You learned something important about your body, didn't you? And there's so much more to learn. You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Regina nods. It's a fearful nod.

I loved soccer, and my first practice with the team of Farnham Institute confirmed it. Coach Stocks was demanding and I worked my ass off to try to impress the woman. I now had one goal, and that was to beat out either Wanda or Mildred as either the starting striker or second striker.

Wanda was rough; several times she tried to trip me up or run her cleats down my calf. Both times I body blocked the bigger girl, knocking her back on her fat ass. I also liked the smile I received from Vanessa each time I sent my opponent sprawling on the grass; I couldn’t help but return the smile, hoping for maybe more than the pleasure of seeing that bitch Wanda put in her place. However, after one particularly vicious row, I caught Coaches eye and saw disapproval in her gaze; I felt my stomach drop.

As Coach dismissed us, I hustled to catch up with Vanessa and my fellow rookie Allison. The three of us jogged across the field to the field house. As Vanessa slid through the door to the locker room, Allison grabbed my arm, holding me back.

“That was so awesome when you sent Wanda sprawling,” she exclaimed as the door slowly closed. “I like nothing more than to see a rude cunt get her comeuppance.”

I beamed a smile at my new friend, “Yeah, it feels good to give her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Shit,” I said as I stepped through the door. “I changed into my kit back in my room; I need to run back there to shower. I thought I was going to be late for practice.”

“Silly girl,” Allison laughed as she headed deeper into the throng of half clad women. “How about I catch you for dinner; say around seven?”

“Sure, do you mind if I bring my roommate?”

“Not at all,” came Allison’s reply, and I turned and headed back out of the field house and back to my dorm room.

Patricia was on her bed reading a large text book, when I arrived. “Hey Reg,” she called, “how was practice? I told Bill that my roomie was a footballer; he’s into cricket himself, but loves football. He knows all the jocks over at” Returning the greeting, I started to take off my kit, throwing my sweat laden jersey in a hamper in my closet. I had started to feel bad every time Patricia brought up her beau and setting me up with one of his friends; I would have to level with her soon. I hoped she wouldn’t take me the wrong way.

My shorts joined my jersey, and I sat at the small desk to remove my socks. Patricia continued to peruse her textbook as I idly shifted the mouse on my computer. I was hitting delete on the numerous e-mails sent out by different school entities and was aghast to see I had selected on sent by coach. I double clicked the link and started to scan the message.

Regina,
I would appreciate it if you could stop by my quarters tonight at precisely 9:00. I would like to discuss with you your performance in practice and your status on the team. When discussing team business I require my girls to wear the appropriate uniform and to look the part of a Farnham Institute footballer.
Do not be late!
Regards
Professor Wendy Stocks

I felt my heart skip. In a week had I already impressed the coach enough to displace one of the two witches as a starter? Excitedly, I grabbed a fresh towel from my closet, and stripping off my brassier as I passed Patricia headed into the shower. “Hey,” I called out as I passed Patricia, excitement in my voice, “You going to be ready for dinner in about twenty minutes?”

I glanced at my cell phone as I approached the door to Coach’s living space. I had passed two instructors, that I did not know, as I entered through the double glass door of building. Both stared at me, attired in my uniform, but moved to one side of the hallway in order to let me pass; hushed whispers from them followed me as I passed down the hall.

I had no trouble finding the door; the layout of the building was similar to my own quarters, except it was obvious that the rooms were much larger than my own. As I approached Coach’s door, a small plaque reading “Miss Wendy Stocks” identifying her room. Glancing at the door across from hers, I was dismayed to see an identical plaque reading “Miss Juliet Tung”. Hesitating, I listened at Miss Tung’s door a moment, before I rapped lightly on Coach’s.

The door opened; Coach Stocks backlit by twin Tiffany lamps situated on two small tables which flanked a plush loveseat. As I looked the woman over, I was surprised at how attractive she was, when she was calm, I hadn’t noticed it before. I stepped across the threshold and into her study. The room was about the size of Patricia and my own room. It was tastefully, though spartanly decorated; it reminded me of my own space, utilitarian with a touch of femininity.
“Good evening Regina,” Coach welcomed me, her eyes taking in my uniform. “I trust you found my quarters easily.”

“Yes… Yes Ma’am,” I stammered. “I looked it up in the directory.”

“And prompt too,” she continued, giving me an approving smile. “Please, have a seat on the sofa.”

I brushed past her, just the touch of her felt powerful, and took my position on the settee which created on end of an open box, flanked by matching armchairs. It faced a window, where I could see out over the grounds and towards the science building. I turned, as coach moved behind me, and followed the woman’s movements to a small table against the wall, where sat an elegant decanter of dark red wine, already breathing.

“A glass of Merlot,” she asked me; already pouring a glass of the dark liquid from the vessel. I hesitated, wondering if the Coach was testing me to see my commitment to the sport. She must have seen my dilemma because she continued, “its all right Regina, I am the one offering.” She then handed me the glass, and filled a second for herself.

I felt a twinge of unease, as the woman moved and sat next to me on the love seat. To cover my nervousness, I took a sip of the wine. The complex flavors surprised me; I wasn’t much of a drinker, in fact aside from sips of ale or the American fruity alcoholic beverages, stayed clear of the stuff. Still I enjoyed the taste of the wine and the comforting feeling that it gave me.

Coach was now looking at me and I waited for her to tell me that I was going to bump at least Mildred from her slot on the team. Instead she began with, “I admit I overreacted with Wanda and Mildred.”

I tried to hide my surprise as she began to talk about punishment. I listened cautiously, and responded at the appropriate intervals. Her tone was nonchalant, but her message was suddenly becoming very clear. I was beginning to understand that there was another, more private way she kept order. I felt a twinge in my stomach, was I to be punished for my retributions on my two teammates?

Then her face changed, an almost compassionate look coming over her features, as she continued. “But when it's extreme, the results are anger, blame and confusion. I fear that's the case. It's one of the reasons I sent for you. I want you to spend the night here.”

‘Spend the night here?’ I thought, ‘Were Wanda and Mildred that evil that they would take out even more extreme retribution on me?’ My mind also leapt to Patricia, they wouldn’t do any harm to my room mate would they? Just who were these two girls?

Coach continued, “If you're here tonight, they can't get at you. And if they can't get at you when they're at their angriest, then by tomorrow they will have cooled off and I'll be able to reason with them, you follow?”

“Yes, but why don't we just call the Police, Ma'am?” I asked, trying to regain control over my emotions.

Coach explained the scenario with Wanda and Mildred and I sat, still sipping my wine, wondering what kind of situation I had gotten myself into. I began to feel that Coach was taking the side of her two stars, was she warning me away from my goals; I couldn’t wait for the two years that it would be before either Mildred or Wanda graduated. Coach was making herself clear, “The team always comes first. You and I, Wanda and Mildred, we all come second. Immutable law of nature. Team first. Say it.”

“Team first.” I replied, a deeply hurt feeling in my chest; though deep down inside knowing she was right.

I thought I was in; Coach smiled slightly as I repeated the mantra. Then the expression on her face became serious again and that twinge of dread I had felt earlier returned. She spoke again, her voice taking on a displeased edge. “Good. Now for the other reason you're here. You're not kicking well. No power in the leg. You lost weight over the summer. It made you fast, but it took away from your strength. Not good, that. I need you strong. Else I can't see you challenging Wanda and Mildred.”

My heart sank, what did she mean? I had played circles around those two bitches; one of them didn’t even deserve to play on the practice squad much less as a starter. I was so disgusted with myself; how had I let myself become lax in front of Coach Stocks. I began to protest. “But…” Coach stopped me with a stare, her eyes glinting, her palm facing me as she raised her hand.

“I'm going to teach you some exercises. You're going to do them right here on the floor. We'll get some strength back in you. Clear?” I stared at her; I had heard Coach was tough and that she often worked with the girls on a one-on-one basis, but here in her own apartment? I slowly nodded as the smile returned to her face, her hand dipping into the drawer of the table holding the lamp and pulling out a small egg connected to a remote by some thin black wires. Her commanding voice echoed in my ears, “Now, take off your outfit.”

I gaped at her, she couldn’t’ be serious; but her eyes told me she was. I stood and slowly began to undress; my jersey and shorts beginning a pile in the floor. I felt my stomach turn in excitement and felt my sex begin to grow wet. The look on her face told me that I wasn’t done, and slowly I pulled my sports bra over my head, letting my breasts free. Her eyes took me in, lingering on the small bars of steel adorning my nipples. “Naked Regina,” she ordered, and I slowly began to push the cotton panties down, exposing my hairless sex.

I felt my body flush in shame as I stood in front of her, naked. I watched her, the way her eyes took in my nude form making me almost squirm. I prayed she would find me attractive; the power she had with just her eyes made my heart pound and my pussy grow moister. ‘Now,” she commanded, “on the floor, and lets work on your legs.”

Later I lay next to the Coach, my body still trembling from the orgasm she compelled from me. My mind was reeling; I wasn’t sure what had just happened to me. For the last two hours this woman had forced; no not forced I had done it willingly, but enticed me into performing calisthenics for her. My stomach and calves still burned from fighting the weights she had affixed to my legs; the whole time using the vibrating egg to draw me to the edge of an orgasm. I hadn’t cum though; God knows I was so close and so wanted too, but instead I had wanted to please her, and in the process almost bit my bottom lip clean through.

Then she had finally ordered me to her bed; where she finally brought me over the edge. I had lain there quivering as her mouth and fingers worked me over. The feel of her tongue against my nipple, the way her thumb had strummed my clit; all before the final act where she pressed the vibrating egg hard against my clit, its vibration so high that I was sure the rest of the teachers could hear it sending waves of pleasure through my body. Then her finger had slipped inside and curving into me applying pressure to the front of my vagina, sending me over the edge with a loud scream and a gush of cum. Fortunately, I thought, she had had the sense to shove her own soaked panties into my mouth; muffling my cries.

I lay for a moment; the egg still sending aftershocks through my body. I had soaked her bed sheets; thought I had let my bladder loose and actually peed in her bed. I looked up at her, memorizing her face, knowing that this woman had just given me the best sexual experience I’d ever had. With a gentle kiss on my forehead, she reached over, grabbed a tissue, and began to clean my quivering sex. Her eyes met mine again, and I had to ask, my voice still shaking from the pleasure she had given me. "What happened, Ma'am? What did I do?"

“You, came, girl.” She answered, her voice low and sultry; to me it was musical and I wanted more.

Yes, I had, but it had been so much more than just an orgasm. She had built me up over the last two hours, never letting me slide over the edge. Then when she did it had been the most intense orgasm of my life; I craved the feeling already. I wanted more. "But I never came like that before." I said, so softly I could barely hear my own voice.

She smiled at me again, still slowly rubbing my sex. "Well, girl, you were never used by someone who understood you until tonight. You came magnificently. You exploded. And you learned something important about your body. There's so much more to learn. Would you like that?

‘Used,’ I thought, the word sending another jolt through my body, ‘yes, that was what it was, she had used me for my own pleasure and I loved it’ I started to nod, to beg for more. Then I remembered the other part; the pain in my abdomen and my thighs as I held my legs in the air; the shame at having her stare lustily at my shaven sex as I spread them wide. I wondered to myself, ‘What will I let her do to me to feel that feeling again?”

Then that voice, deep inside of me. The one that had relished the pain and humiliation when Alyssa fisted me; the one that sent tingles through my body when another woman called me a slut; the one that had almost forced me to cum when the candles heated my skin and my arms burned from the weight of my own body answered. ‘Anything.’

Bumpity

Juliet Tung

Fortunately, the next few days were looking up for Juliet. She had started teaching and the rhythm of the classroom and the work that came afterward were a refreshing frame to set everything else in her new life at Farnham around. It let her easily avoid her roommate and Regina, except for class where it was easy enough not to have any direct interaction with her, and she found herself almost relaxing and enjoying things now and then.

The delicate Eurasian was humming "Ode to Joy" under her breath as she walked up the stairs to her office, one arm cradling a stack of folders and assignments to be reviewed. Suddenly she heard a familiar gasp and then a rush of feet on the steps below her, "Professor Tung!"

She sighed but turned with a patient smile. One of her students was rushing up to her, the girl's eyes bright behind wire-rimmed glasses, and an exuberant smile on her young face. "You heard me, oh, wonderful! Good afternoon, Professor. Can I talk to you about my poem? I've got some more done and I think I've settled on a rhyme scheme but I'd love to get your opinion since you know so much about poetry. And have such great taste. And such a good ear for rhyme." The girl wore a very fluffy lace ruffed blouse with a high neck, a knee length brown skirt, white over the calf socks, and a pair of cute black maryjanes to complete the outfit. She was pretty but could have been more so if she dressed a bit differently. She was also the well meaning bane of Juliet's professional life right now.

"Hello, Shawna," Juliet nodded. Starting immediately after her first class, Shawna had been following Juliet around and telling the teacher all about her literary ambitions and her poetry. Oh, God, her poetry. She'd recited whole pages of the stuff following Juliet back to her office; some of it was acceptable but most was poor and rather cliched romantic poems, dripping with teenage emotion and ridiculousness. She'd been working on one poem for the last several days now; making it something of an epic by Shawna standards. "Are you sure though? I thought you wanted to wait until it was finished to show me this one."

The girl blushed and clutched the notebook she had to her chest, "Well, yes, but then I really wanted you to hear these lines because they felt so...so high flying and feathery that I just knew you'd love it!"

The girl was sweet but such a pest! "It's kind that you thought of sharing the lines with me, of course, but if the piece isn't done, won't they be out of context at best, dear?"

"Well, yes, but-"

She laid a hand on the girl's slender shoulder, "Then they won't have the effect you want yet. Take a little more time to put it all together right and then I have no doubt the lines will do exactly what you want."

Shawna looked as though she could have been knocked over by a feather. "Oh, so...you want me to work on it a little more and then you want to hear it?"

Juliet nodded, "Once you're sure it's ready for me." She gave the girl's arm another pat and turned back to her office door. Shawna lifted a hand to where Juliet's had been and then spun away and thudded back down the stairs.

The teacher sighed again. Tomorrow, probably, she'd have another terrible love poem to hear. But at least it would be tomorrow and not right now. If only the girl would get over this crush or hook up with whoever it was, then she wouldn't have to bore Juliet with the poetry she was writing to try and impress her would be love.

Perhaps she shouldn't be so dismissive of the girl's efforts. As the lock clicked and she pushed the door open slowly, she remembered another incident...

"Alyssa!" The girl turned her head, her large dark eyes glinting with recognition. Juliet, her hair longer and falling down to the small of her back smiled. "Look!"

She handed the girl the school's internal newspaper and stepped back with a smile. Juliet folded her hands behind her back and waited. And waited. Finally, after a few minutes, Alyssa shrugged, "And?"

Juliet's eyes stung suddenly. "Alyssa, didn't you see?" She took the paper back and pointed to a small picture of herself. "Since my book was just published, the Dean did a review of it and they put it in the paper."

"And?"

"And...and it's a very positive review," Juliet finished lamely.


She sighed again, a deeper and more heartfelt sound. She'd wanted to impress Alyssa so much and been so embarrassed by how little the girl seemed to care. Shaking her head and looking down, Juliet stepped into her office.

Shawna

Late Afternoon - Outside Shawna's Dorm Room

A hastily-scrawled Post-it note affixed to the door with a push pin

POET AT WORK! DO NOT DISTURB!



The Same Moment - Inside Shawna's Dorm Room

Darkened. The curtains drawn. The only light coming from the desk lamp across the room. On the wall, huge posters of Wonder Woman.

In the middle of the floor, in a heap, Shawna's backpack, her white lacy blouse, her white socks, her maryjanes and her underwear

Shawna lies on the bed, naked. She vibes herself. She thrashes and flails about, working the dick deep inside her. She presses a button on the base of the tool. We hear the tiny motor switch to a high whine. Juliet keens like a bird as she reaches climax.

"OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"



The Same Moment - Outside Shawna's Dorm Room

Through the door, the muffled, barely-audible sound of Shawna orgasming.

Two students walk in the hallway past the door. One nudges the other with a jerk of the head at the door.

"Poet a work!"

They laugh.



An Hour Later - Inside Shawna's Dorm Room

Shawna sits naked at her desk. She reads aloud from a sheet of pen-and-ink scrawls:


Undressing Juliet

Undressing you
is like watching
an artist
unveil a fine
work of art

Begin at the blouse
button by button.

Next the
mysterious labyrinth
of the bra clasp.
One strap,
then the other.

Or perhaps
it's a different
kind of maze,
spiraling around
the breasts,
concealing, binding
finally releasing
your two caged birds
into the air.

Moving down
one shoe,
then the other.

Moving back up
to the tangle
of your in-betweens

The belt buckle
heavy in my hand,
the belt winding
up into itself,
a snake eating
its own tail.

My fingers
now like sparrows
alight on your thighs,
then down
to your legs
to your calves
to your feet

Revealing your flesh
naked flesh
and I fall down
on my knees
in prayer
to worship you
in awe

Bumpity

I woke, a gentle shaking to my shoulder rousing me. Sleepily I glanced up and into the eyes of Coach Wendy. She was smiling, her face still flushed with sleep; she was beautiful. I slowly became aware of the ache in my muscles, and remembered her “workout”. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to repeat it, not this morning.

“Wake up my little slut,” Coaches voice whispered in my ear.

We showered the hot water beating on our bodies. I longed to reach out and touch her, caress her, feel her firm breasts, but she brushed my hands away when I reached out for her. After, I dressed in my uniform, as she watched me. Her gaze made me wet and I yearned for her touch. “Please Coach,” I started to implore, but she silenced me with the raise of one hand.

I finished dressing, wondering exactly what this woman wanted from me; as I pulled my warm up jacket I saw her stand and move toward me. Her kiss was hard, passionate, and only served to confuse my emotions even more. I loved the feel of her lips against mine and started to put my arms around her, hoping to draw her in close. She backed away, breaking the kiss. I stood staring at her for a moment; tears starting to well in my eyes. Then I turned and fumbled with the door knob until it opened; I fled her room.

The morning air was cold and a light drizzle soon dampened my jacket; hood up, I hurried across the empty quad to my own dormitory. My mind was still on Coach Stocks; she had made me recapture feelings I had last felt with Alyssa. I had tried in the past; tried to find another woman who would use me.. I knew I was opening myself up for more emotional hurt, but I didn’t care.

My head was down, between the wind and the tears that were threatening to streak my face, and I didn’t see the person as I bumped into her. “Sorry,” I mumbled as my eyes moved up from the concrete to look into the face of the girl I had just brushed against. I felt my stomach drop as I recognized the delicate features of the girls face. I stopped and turned watching the familiar gait of Alyssa Brinker.

She didn’t turn, kept walking towards the cafeteria. I started to call her name, almost rushed to grab her shoulder, turn her around and kiss the face that I saw every time I was with another woman. But my legs wouldn’t move my voice wouldn’t make a sound; I just stood and watched her disappear into the doors of the cafeteria. When the door closed I turned and ran back to my dormitory.

The room was empty and I flopped down on my bed; my mind turning. Had I really just seen Alyssa, or had it been the result of my session with Coach Wendy. I felt my tears finally start to fall, as I struggled with my emotions. I was sure that it had been Alyssa, the face, the walk both of them brought back memories of the first woman I thought I loved.

My sex was wet, and I slid my hand down the front of my shorts, finding my soaking pussy. As I pushed against the wet lips I found myself thinking of my night with Coach, and the sexual state she had left me in. I pushed my shorts down to my knees, and pressed the corner of my pillow against my aching pussy. I wanted fucked. As I rode the pillow I thought back to my last time with Alyssa Brinker; how she had used me and loved me in that overgrown cemetery back in London.

It was Halloween and Alyssa met me at the train station. I saw her as I took the steps down to the platform; a radiant figure in white with wings and a halo completing her costume. I was dressed exactly opposite, as she had requested, a short red shirt, black tank and hoodie, and little red horns on my head. I had laughed when she had suggested it, but the look she had given me let me know she was serious. As I approached her, she sided up to me; I couldn’t take my eyes off of her body.

“Are you a bad girl, Regina?” she whispered to me as she approached. “Are you a slut?” I nodded in response as she slid around behind me. The crowd was sparse at this time of night, but the stares of our fellow commuters made me feel vulnerable.

“Yes Alyssa,” I replied, my voice low, trying to keep it only in her earshot.

“And whose slut are you, Reg?” she asked again. I felt my stomach tingle as she drew out the word slut. I replied, my voice shaking slightly.

“Yours Alyssa.”

Her angelic smile changed to the demonic grin that I both loved and feared. “Yes…” she hesitated, but only for a moment, “yes… you are. Come!”

We boarded the train, our destination still unknown to me. The car was about half full; most of the occupants seemed to be kids, in full Halloween regalia, probably destined for some party or another. We took a seat towards the front of the car; Alyssa looking through the crowd of passengers. I sat next to her, pushing my legs together, trying to hold my skirt down.

“Look at those two,” came Alyssa’s whisper. I glanced over to see a pair of boys in their late teens; both dressed as pirates. One had a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp. “Do you want to suck their dicks?” Alyssa whispered into my ear.

I shook my head, looking over at her aghast. “No…No Alyssa.” I replied under my breath.

“I bet you do you slut,” she continued. Again I shook my head.

“If I were to tell you too, would you suck them off right here on this tram?” she continued, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up to stare into her eyes. I saw the sparkle of malice that she got, when she started to transform from my best friend to my tormentor. “Would you be a slut for me?”

I continued to shake my head, my voice whispering “No.” I thought she might slap me, but instead she continued to verbally torment me.

“I bet you couldn’t even get a guy off by sucking his cock. I bet you’ve never even tried.” She knew I hadn’t; she knew I had never even kissed a boy, much less had any kind of sex with one. She laughed, sliding her hand up my thigh, under my skirt to my silk covered sex. I glanced behind her, and saw both boys staring at us.

Alyssa turned, following my stare. She flashed a smile at the two boys, and I felt her fingers press under the gusset of my panties; tracing my labia, parting my sex. I put my hand over hers, stopping her, again whispering “No, Alyssa… Not here… Not in front of … them.”

She turned back to me, still smiling her twisted little smile. “I just had to show them, that’s all. Don’t worry slut, I won’t let them stick their cocks in your pretty little mouth; nor in your virgin cunt either. You are my slut!” She hadn’t moved her hand; in fact her thumb was now circling on my clit. I felt a jolt of sexual pleasure course through me, as she manipulated me. I looked again at the two boys, both with a grin on their faces and felt my face burn.

Thankfully, the train started to slow, and Alyssa slowly removed her hand from under my skirt. I saw that her fingers were glistening where she had parted my sex. “Get up slut,” she hissed, and I rose following her to the door. As we passed the two boys, she stopped and stared at them. I saw their faces go from an expression of lust and amusement to discomfort. Then without a word, Alyssa led me off the train.

The station was not familiar to me, and was considerably shabbier than the ones that I normally stopped at. We watched as the train sped by; the only other person in the station was a dirty poorly dressed black man who was rummaging through the bin by the women’s WC. When the train had completely passed, Alyssa took my hand and led me across the platform and out onto the street.

This was a completely different London than I knew. It seemed darker; many of the lights broken or just burned out. In the shadow came the movement of people milling around and I saw a beefy looking bobby walking down the street, stopping occasionally at a flutter of activity in the dark.

“Where are we Alyssa?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. She looked back at me and replied, the malice creeping back into her voice.

“Why, don’t you recognize it? It’s the gutter, and that’s a perfect place for my gutter slut.”

I stared at her, and quickly I felt her hand on my cheek; an open handed slap that stopped me instantly. This was the first time she had struck me and I was amazed at how my best friend, my confidant could change this much in a simple train ride. ‘We were still best friends,’ I thought. And we were, at least in public. But privately things had been changing; when we were together it was no longer a tender kiss or a soft caress. Alyssa had slowly changed things up; first had been the names: slut or whore. Then it was no longer the mutual cunnilingus that had, initially, so enticed me.

Alyssa had become edgier. While she never left me wanting, her style of sex had slowly become rougher. I had been surprised to find that the rougher she was, the more excited I had become. The last time we had been together she had pressed three of her fingers inside of me, fucking me hard with the digits. She had had me make her cum, only using my mouth. Licking and sucking on her sex and then at her insistence her anus until I made her quiver.

She guided me through the maze of dirty streets; past pubs and cheap hotels until we approached the broken gate of an old cemetery. She threaded her way through the broken tombstones as I glanced left and right for some kind of watchman; someone who was going to see us as we entered the graveyard. There was no flash of a watchman’s lamp, nor sound of anyone else in the small fenced area. Ahead, Alyssa stopped at a stone building, the entrance ringed with four ornate, but crumbling sarcophagi.

“Hop up on that one,” she told me, pointing to one of the waist high slabs. I looked at her, and then followed her finger to the coffin. She saw my hesitation and repeated herself, this time her voice edging with a hint of impatience. I complied, hoisting myself up on the slab with my hands, my feet dangling over the side. Alyssa stepped between my legs, parting them with her body.

I leaned forward, wanting to take her in my arms, kiss her soft pouty lips. She stopped me, her hand firmly pressed against my chest. I met her eyes; reading the sense of enjoyment she was getting in denying me this. Her other hand slipped between my legs and up my skirt; pulling my silk thong to the side. Her finger and thumb found my clit, pushing the hood back and pinching on the tender nub; making my body shiver.

“No slut,” she hissed, “I’m just going to fuck you, not make love to you.” I felt my body tingle at her words, as she pushed me back down on the top of the limestone slab. “Fuck Reg, you are wet. I love how you get off on me treating you like this.” She continued, as she let go of my clit and began to open my slick lips. “Now put your soles on the top of the coffin.”

I complied, raising my bottom up, waiting for her to remove my panties. Instead, she pushed them aside and her fingers found my vagina, penetrating me. I felt myself react, my muscles starting to clamp on her intruding fingers. She continued to hold me down on the slab, pushing her fingers deeper in. “Relax baby,” she said, this time a trace of compassion in her whisper, “You are too tight.”

I tried; I lay back fighting with my own body, as she fucked me with her two fingers. The hand on my chest found my right breast and she rolled the nipple through my t-shirt and bra. I felt myself open up, as she added a third finger into my throbbing pussy, working it in and out of me. I heard myself moan as another jolt coursed through me.

“Are you ready Reg?” I opened my eyes and met hers. Her gaze was hard, but her lips belied a soft smile.

“Ready?” I questioned, struggling against her hand to sit up. The grip on my nipple increased, as I felt her fingers leave me. “Ready for… what?” I repeated, as she parted my labia and gently opened my vagina. Her fingers felt different; so close together. I winced as I realized that she was opening me, her fingers pushing me open. She drew back slightly, fucking me with her fingers; my secretions coating her hand. Then she pushed.

I screamed, more in shock than anything, but I felt jolt of pain as my vagina stretched to accommodate her as she pushed her hand into my body. I almost sat up, pushing her back a bit as I felt myself clamp down hard on her wrist. Our eyes were locked now, her gaze holding steady with mine as I felt her slowly move her hand inside of me.

“Alyssa…” I breathed, my mind still reeling around her actions. “Please… no” I felt my muscles convulse as she slowly rotated her hand; curling her fingers and slowly grazing inside my tunnel. Her fingers flexed and my torso pushed up ward. I was aware at how far my legs were now spread and felt the seams of my panties burn into my thigh. I could see her arm, disappearing under my skirt and I flicked my eyes back up to hers.

“Lay back Reg,” she commanded, then she added playfully, “you slut.”

I complied, I had no choice. Her probing fingers soon found what they were searching for and I felt myself explode, a writhing slut on top of a limestone slab. After a few moments she withdrew and crawled along my body, her lips finding my cheeks. Tears had begun to dwell in my eyes, concurrent with my throws of ecstasy. I felt opened, violated, and I had never cum so hard in my life.

Somehow she led me back to the tram station. Alyssa held me in her arms, as we took the trip back to our home station. Her lips brushing against my ear as she held me close. We snuck past my parents and together shared my small bed. I heard her snoring softly, her arms still wrapped around me. My mind raced, trying to understand why she enjoyed what she had done to me and why I had not only let her do it, but wanted her to do it again. When I awoke she had snuck out, leaving me alone with the sense of shame for what I had let my best friend do to me the night before. However, it still wasn’t as great as the feelings that coursed through me less than a week later when I discovered her and Miss Tung in the art studio.

My memory fueled me as I rode the pillow, the rough corner pushing against my clit, the pillow case stimulating me. I moaned into the mattress, feeling the orgasm begin too well in me as I masturbated. A soft cough broke my concentration and I turned my head to see Patricia and a short Oriental girl standing in the doorway. I immediately rolled over, grasping at my bed sheet in an effort to cover myself. I felt my face heat up, as I pulled the sheet higher, wanting to disappear under the soft cool covering.

Alyssa

2:10pm


Juliet enters her office and closes the door. A small lamp illuminates the papers on her desk, leaving most of the room shrouded in shadows. She stands at the door, leaving the light switch untouched for a second as she recounts the events of the past two days. She turns to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. She looks at herself, runs a weary hand through her hair and unbuttons her pantsuit jacket. She's hanging the jacket on the back of a chair when she senses a sound and a movement in a dark corner. She whirls and freezes and almost screams as a lamp switches on and there is Alyssa sitting, grinning, her legs crossed, one hand on the lamp switch, the other holding a pistol.

“Keep going, teacher lady.”

Juliet stands frozen to the floor. Alyssa gestures with the gun.

“It's all right. Don't mind me. Keep right on going.”

Juliet nods. She undoes her pants and lets them fall to her ankles. Alyssa licks her lips.

“Don't stop on my account.”

She stares for a moment, then unbuttons her blouse, letting it fall away. Then she undoes her bra.

“Tell you something, teacher lady. Outside you might be all prim and proper and starchy, but underneath, you're still my slut.”

Alyssa aims the lamp at Juliet like it's a spotlight. Juliet stands in the glare, naked, her eyes averted.

“Let down your hair.”

She hesitates for a moment before reaching back behind her head with both hands. Her fingers work quickly and in a moment her hair tumbles down over her shoulders.

“Shake your head.”

She shakes her head and her hair loosens up, covering her shoulders now, thick and gloriously black. Alyssa tilts her head, a wicked grin on her lips. Juliet stands there before her, looking wild.



2:30pm


Juliet stands naked in her heels the middle of the office, her head covered with a leather head bag locked at the neck. She breathes through a little pipe poking through at the mouth.

Alyssa holds a riding crop against Juliet's calves. Her voice takes on that menacing command tone Juliet remembers so well.

"Heels together, slut."

SMAKKKKKKKKKKKK!

"I said, heels together!"

Juliet feels the crop on her tush.

"Push that ass out."

The crop on her lower arm.

"Arms at your side, slut. Thumbs turned inward."

The crop at her shoulder.

"Shoulders back."

The crop on her nipple.

"Push those tits out."

Juliet feels herself trembling. She can't help herself.

"Now don't move, girl. Stay perfectly still."



2:45pm


Alyssa has Juliet bent over the desk, her stomach pressed against an open encyclopedia. Juliet whimpers as Alyssa adjusts her hood. All she can do is focus on breathing.

"You will take your punishment without making a sound. Is that clear?"

Juliet nods. Then the first hard smack on her behind. And suddenly her nipples are rock hard. She wants another and another and another.

"Oh God! Please, Ma'am, give me another!"

She sobs inside the hood. Alyssa's fingernail probes her anus. Juliet bucks slightly at her touch.

"You're clenching. I don't like sluts who clench when they're being paddled. We're going to have to do something about that."

Juliet whimpers.

"Take your medicine like a big girl, slut."

Alyssa takes out a hand of ginger. With a small knife, she cuts off a finger of the ginger and peels the skin from it. She puts the peeled finger in a glass of water to soak while she loosens Juliet's hood and removes it.

"I want you to smell something, girl."

Juliet blinks in the sudden light. Alyssa takes the ginger and holds it under her nose.

"Smells nice, yes?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

“Inside you, it won't be so nice, slut."

She teases Juliet's poop hole open with her finger and slides the finger of ginger in deep. Suddenly, there's fire in the hole. Alyssa's firm hand holds her down as she bucks and kicks at the sudden, intense pain.

"OH GODOHGODOHGOD. It hurts, Ma'am!"

"Keep your little hole open wide, girl. Do not clench and the fire won't burn so hot."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Then Alyssa takes up the paddle again. WHAKKKKK!

"Oh God! Thank you, Ma'am!"

WHAKKKK!




3:05pm



Alyssa sits naked at the desk, doing a charcoal drawing of Juliet on a sketchpad. Juliet stands naked in the corner like a bad student being punished, her nose pressed to the wall. the word "SLUT" written with a black marker on her red, freshly-paddled tush.

She sobs quietly.

A light rap on the door. Juliet flinches.

"Stay right where you are, girl."

Through the door, Shawna's voice.

"It's me, Miss Tung. Shawna. I finished my poem. I worked on it all night."

Alyssa grins.

"Maybe we should let her in."

"Oh no, Ma'am, she can't see me like this!"

"Why not? You look lovely. You look good enough to eat."

“Miss Tung? Ma'am? Are you in there? It's me, Shawna!”

“Please, Ma'am. I would be so humiliated.”

Alyssa laughs.

“Tell her to slide it under the door.”

“I. I'm busy right now, Shawna. Just slide it under the door. I'll critique it with you tomorrow.”

A sheet of paper slides under the door. Then the sound of a girl's receding footsteps.

Alyssa sets the charcoal sketch aside. She turns in her chair, opens her legs, displaying her glistening cunt.

"Now, slut, you may pleasure me."

Juliet exhales in relief, kneels and begins crawling to Alyssa. She feels her nipples getting very hard and her pussy getting very wet.

Bumpity

Juliet Tung

3:05pm

Crawling over to Alyssa was an agony in itself. Her ass was raw and sore, inside and out. It still burned from the ginger insertion, though the hateful finger had been thrown away after Juliet had licked it clean. God, the taste had been awful!

But Alyssa wanted it. And she couldn't refuse Alyssa, even in her cruelty and her abusive state.

The slender Eurasian reached her lover and kissed each foot once before slipping between her legs and kissing up one calf, and then the other. Before she could get further, one of Alyssa's hands grabbed her glossy black hair and yanked hard, drawling a startled gasp from the woman, "Slut, I said pleasure me, not fucking tongue bathe me."

"Ahh, Yes, Ma'am, I'm sorry," Juliet gasped, "Forgive me, but you're so-" Her words cut off as Alyssa twisted the hair and pulled harder on it. "Please, let me pleasure you, Ma'am."

"No excuses, slut. Get to it."

Juliet's hair was released and she rose up to press her face into Alyssa's wet, hot pussy. She delved her tongue deep into the younger woman's silken tunnel, tasting her wet heat and swirling her tongue to deliciously scour the walls.

Alyssa cooed, "Cunt hungry bitch. Don't you dare stop until I say. Get into it, slut, make me cum."

Juliet withdrew her tongue, the taste of Alyssa filling her mouth and her nose, "Yes, Ma'am." She kissed her abuser's lips and then slid her tongue along them upward before pushing it past to feel and taste the hotter, silkier flesh beneath. Her tongue shifted and searched, rasping over hot, wet meat until it found Alyssa's swollen pearl. With a whimpering coo, Juliet began to suck and tongue the nub, her head bobbing up and down in Alyssa's lap.

"Ohh, fuck, that's a good whore!" Alyssa hissed her breath out between her teeth, "Oh, God, yesss."

3:30pm

"Oh, God, oh God, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Alyssa quivered and jerked in the chair, both hands twined in Juliet's black locks, yanking and twisting her hair as she gushed all over the teacher's face. "Yes, God, yes, you slut! Don't stop, don't you fucking dare stop!"

4:15pm

Juliet fell to the ground and shivered. The blow had come suddenly and without warning.

Alyssa let out a rolling murr and stretched int he chair like a contented cat. "Fuck, that was good. I forgot just how talented a whore you are, pretty little teacher lady."

Juliet whimpered, "Thank you, Ma'am."

The girl stared at her a moment with a nasty smile and then reached back to lift something off of the desk. She hefted the pistol and pointed it at Juliet, the woman's eyes growing huge and round as the they locked on the weapon. "Forgot this? You really are a stupid slut, aren't you?"

Alyssa got up and moved to stand over Juliet, the deadly firearm pointed at her. "Kiss the barrel, slut." Her grin widened as a trembling Juliet lifted herself up to press her lips to the end of the pistol. "Now close your eyes."

Juliet did so and a moment later she felt an explosion on the top of her head and the world swirled into nothing.

5:30pm

The light streaming in the windows was faint as Juliet's eyes slid open. The top of her head was pounding and as she groggily ran her hand over the spot she could feel a tender lump.

She pulled herself to a kneeling position, blinking as she looked around her office with owlish eyes. Alyssa was gone, as were her bra and panties, though the rest of her clothes remained. Shawna's poem was still on the floor by the office door.

Juliet crawled to the office chair and pulled herself up into it. She hugged herself and started to weep, sobbing into her own hands, her ass stinging as she sat in the darkening office.

Professor Wendy Stocks

6:00pm

Wendy Stocks stood in the bathroom she shared with Juliet Tung, the door open. She hummed to herself. She looked herself up and down in the mirror. She liked what she saw, an athletic woman in a shimmering evening gown and silver 3-inch open-toed strappies. She sipped from a glass of red wine. She licked her lips, winked at herself.

"Damn, I'd fuck that in a New York minute!"

Just then, the door opened and Juliet entered the hall, walking a little unsteady. Wendy turned to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Just had too many martinis at TGIFs. My head's throbbing."

"Well, you better watch it tonight. Go easy on the drink."

"Why? What's happening tonight?"

"The Mixer! Students. Faculty. Staff. The whole shebang. As the new Head of English, you gotta show up."

"Oh damn! That's right! I forgot! I got to get ready!"

Juliet unlocks the door to her room and rushes inside, slamming the door and locking it. Wendy goes back to admiring herself in the mirror.



6:15pm


Inside Wendy's quarters, she had Regina pressed to the wall. Regina looked ravishing in her gown with her red hair in a curly pixie bob. Her heels clicked erotically on the hardwood floor.

"I want you now, girl"

"Please Ma'am, there's no time."

"There's always time, girl. I want to taste you so bad."

Wendy drew back. Regina carefully lifted her gown, displaying the lacy-white stockings and the garter belts and her bare cunt with the little red "landing strip" just above the lips.

"Oh God, you look good enough to eat, girl."

Wendy knelt. Regina closed her eyes. As Wendy's rough hands gripped her thighs and her lips closed over her sex, Regina's mind, for some reason, conjured up memories of another place and time.

Flashback

"Lunchtime. Time for Regina's noon feeding, Anne dear."

Regina is cuffed naked on her knees under the table. The table at which Alyssa and a friend of hers from art class are seated. Next to Regina on the floor, a bowl.

"Don't you think she would make a nice housepet, Anne?"

The girl giggles. There's a nervous tinge to her laugh. Regina sees her toes curl.

"Then feed her, Anne. You should always feed your house pet."

Regina sees the girl's trembling hand appear under the table holding a piece of chicken breast. Plop! It lands in the bowl. Regina stares at it.

Alyssa, in her domme boots, gives Regina a kick.

“Eat, girl. And lick the bowl afterwards, like a good little pet."

End of Flashback


Regina felt Wendy's tongue deep inside her, her nails digging into her ass cheeks. She felt herself boiling over, about to erupt.

"OHGODOHGODOHGODOHYESYESYESYES!"



6:35pm

Wendy held up a device Regina had never seen before.

"Put it on"

https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/_A1oLfP4j-nI/TVQq_dwyIFI/AAAAAAAAC_U/mkXlgDSrJLM/s512/Chastity%20belt%20with%20dildo%20and%20buttplug.jpg

"You're mine now. I own your pussy and your ass. I want to be sure they're not being misused."

Regina saw a tiny padlock and key in Wendy's hand.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I want you to wear it at the Mixer. Every step you take, that thing in your cunt will move. Every time you sit, that plug in your anus will press up into you. A reminder of who you belong to. You follow me, girl?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Wendy kissed her, then knelt to help the girl lock it on her.

Alyssa

Alyssa had such fun torturing Juliet and reminding Juliet of her proper place as her filthy slut that she decided to have some more fun with her. The thought of letting that one student, Shawna was the name, see Juliet in such a humiliating position had been such a turn on for Alyssa that she had almost gone ahead and did it if it wasn't for Juliet's begging and pleading.

As she walked through the corridors, she pondered over the situation. While letting one student see Juliet in such a position was a sexy idea, the possibility of an entire group of people was an even better one. Alyssa was one who enjoyed public displays. Good thing she paid attention to her surroundings and all the gossip going on about the mixer. Now all she had to do was see about crashing it.

First she needed a gown, since she wasn't going to try to get one from the nearest store, she decided to lay in wait in the bushes for a girl around her own size to pass by and take her gown instead.

She eventually saw just the girl, good thing the girl was alone. Made things easy, even more so that the girl looked like she was just waiting to be made into someone's filthy slut. Alyssa smirked at the thought, too bad she wasn't in the market to take in any more at the moment. She stepped from her hiding place, gun pointed at the girl.

"Now girl, you're going to do exactly as I say if you don't want to get hurt." Alyssa grinned evilly as she saw the look of fear on the girl's face at the sight of the gun. "Get over there quickly and strip. Off with the gown and the shoes and be quick about it." She gestured to the area behind her, watching as the girl moved and did what she told, the whole time the girl's eyes never leaving the gun.

Of course being who she was, Alyssa was fighting hard not to just fully force the girl to submit right then and there so instead, smacked the girl's breasts hard before pistol whipping the girl to the ground. She then used the panties she stole from Juliet earlier to act as a tie and twisted them around the girl's wrists and ankles, basically hog-tying the girl before stuffing Juliet's bra in the girl's mouth. "I'll be back for you later little girl." A huge smirk was on her face before she began pulling the gown up over her latex and pulling on the heels.

With one last grin, she tucked the gun inside her coat before heading into the Mixer to stalk Regina and Juliet. Oh how arousing it was to see the gasps on both Juliet and Regina's faces when she walked inside....

Sigrid Jensen

5 pm

Sigrid sat alone at the reception desk in the outer office. Ms Bennett and the others had left early to prepare for the Student/Faculty Mixer that night. At first, Sigrid didn't see the big deal of it. It sounded like just another collegiate wine-and-cheese affair. But then Ms Bennett took her aside and explained how these informal get-togethers build relationships between students and faculty members. The point is, as Ms Bennett put it, you need the occasional casual affair to encourage friendly give-and-take on a level plane where everyone, regardless of academic status, lets their hair down. Sigrid thought to herself, "Ms Bennett is so wise."

Sigrid appreciated the attention. It was sometimes a lonely thing, being a foreign student, all her friends a thousand miles away, her father on a faraway continent. But Ms Bennett had proven herself to be a good friend, a confidant, a surrogate "older sister." Sigrid was beginning to have strong feelings for her, feelings she didn't yet quite understand.


5:30pm

She closed the appointment book, set the phone on "call forwarding" to the voicemail center, and stood up. Time to dash off to her dorm room and get ready for the Mixer. She had a gold-colored backless gown with matching 3-inch gold sandals. She couldn't wait to see herself in the mirror. She remembered what Ms Bennett had said when she described it. "You'll be the belle of the ball, my dear."

Bumpity

6:15pm

Juliet had heard voices in Wendy's room as she'd passed by but perhaps she was imagining it. Her own head was still pounting and she'd probably have a goose egg for days where Alyssa had pistol whipped her.

She sighed as she slid her bathrobe off of her delicate shoulders and turned on the water for the shower. Oh, Alyssa...she could be so sweet and so kind but she was so cruel now. And she had gotten worse and worse. How had she even known Juliet was here? To think she'd come all this way to find her, to claim her...

She shivered and stepped into the warm stream of water, letting it wash away the smell of sweat and sex. The slender Eurasian simply stood in the stream for a few minutes; face upturned and eyes closed, letting it beat away the dirt on her. The physical dirt, at least. The metaphysical was hardier stuff indeed.

Juliet lathered herself up, paying careful attention to where the word "SLUT" was written on her perfect, pert ass. She scrubbed that area several times, hoping to get most of the marker off. But she couldn't take too long.

She thought again of Alyssa and whimpered in the cascading water. One of her hands slid down her stomach and between her legs. Juliet leaned back against the wall. Maybe she could take just long enough...

6:40pm

Juliet examined herself in the mirror. For a rush job, it had turned out well. She wore a snug fitting Cheongsam that was a silk brocade, a pale cream up the middle and black on the outside, with delicate piping between. It left her arms and upper back care and there was a waterdrop opening neckline fastened with an elegant frog. A Mandarin collar rose high on her neck, and the garment was slit on both sides of the skirt, allowing flashes of her long, supple legs up to just above her knee, the slits fastened with frogs as well at that point. A pair of four inch heels, her "fuck me" heels Alyssa had called them, completed the outfit; not traditional but they did look very good.

Her hair had been put into a long braid and then curled up into a bun high at the back of her head, the very tail of the braid handing down below it. The bun was secured by a pair of decorative chopsticks, delicately lacquered a deep red with a scene of a frolicking dragon in gold and green.

She dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and on both wrists and gave herself one last critical look in the mirror. "It will have to do," she sighed.

In truth, she was worried. This would be a chance to raise or lower her stock with Miss Bennett, after all. And given what had happened today, the time might come when she would been to be very highly regarded if she had any hope of professional survival.

She hurried out of the shared quarters. It might have been rude to not stop and see if Wendy was gone yet or ask if the coach would like to walk with her...but it was still wise to avoid that woman as much as possible. And she didn't want to be any later to the festive event.