EXTRACT FOR
Cassi, Dormitory Pet
(Melissa DuVant)
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The Kinky University - Cassi, Dormitory Pet Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the author of this book
has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and
Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this
work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other
means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and
recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden
without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of
the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. Table of Contents Chapter Two: Induction Session Chapter Three: New Model Student Chapter Five: Meeting the Roomies Chapter Six: Seeing the School Chapter Seven: Arranging the Details Chapter Ten: A Shameful Display Chapter Eleven: Lack of Relief Chapter Twelve: Petsitting for the Weekend Chapter Thirteen: Competition Training Chapter Fourteen: Posture Training Chapter Fifteen: Halloween Hunting Chapter Sixteen: The Hunt Begins Chapter Seventeen: A Begging Reward Chapter Eighteen: Arranging the Entertainment Prisonette's
Dilemma Preview Chapter For Thiccly Padded, who gave the world Cassi, and her tight lil' butt, begging to be filled! Cassandra shifted uncomfortably. This was the right place, wasn't it? The hall she stood in had to be the very fanciest
she had ever seen. Gas lanterns and wood
paneling with a deep red carpeting. It
felt like being inside of one of the boring British mystery stories her mom was
always watching. "Fancy church castle in
the middle of the Alps" did sound like the sort of place that one of those stories
could be set. Would it have killed them
to put name plates on the door, at least? This was the furthest, by a long shot, that
Cassandra had ever been from home. Everything
was strange and unfamiliar, even before she stepped into the cathedral that
housed the school. Stepping off of the plane in Salzburg might as well have been walking
on the moon as far as Cassandra was concerned.
Jet lag aside, the whole place looked like a damn
story book. Wisconsin had some trees and
hills, sure, but she'd never seen real and actual mountains so close. It was like "The Sound of Music" came to life
in front of her. She wasn't given a lot
of time to look at the place. As soon as
she was off the plane she was in a car and heading out of town and into the middle
of the mountains. It was still early morning when she arrived at Saint Michael's, and the campus was dead quiet. The whole place looked old. A giant cathedral stood front and center, clearly built ages back. It absolutely had to be the oldest thing that Cassandra had ever seen in her life. It looked just like the brochure, although the pictures had featured more people. The only signs of life when she arrived were the two joggers. Cassandra blanched as she thought of those two joggers. That one simple image brought home to her exactly where she was. She relished in the memory of the one, a man, holding the leash of his demure and blindfolded jogging companion. She had nearly passed out in absolute shame when he waved to her as they passed on the path. The blind girl on the lead may not have even noticed Cassandra's existence at all. Seen, but unable to know by who. Cassandra's thighs tensed at the thought. 'One side, please!' A robust voice with a strong accent of some kind called from a few feet to Cassandra's left. On pure instinct, she pressed herself against the door before even confirming that so extreme an accommodation would need to be made. Fortunately, it was. As she glanced left, she saw three students moving toward her pushing a hefty-looking handcart, bearing a locked metal crate. Like the joggers before, these students looked almost normal in their task. Almost. The blue blazers that all three wore would not have been out of place in Cassandra's last school. The skirts that the girls wore were a little shorter and tighter than any Cassandra had seen previously, and those heels would be considered quite taboo at just about any school. But the thing that really made them stand apart wasn't what they were wearing, but what they were carrying. They spoke, voices low, rapid words in Spanish. Cassandra could make most of it - a lesson was being set up, and someone needed putting into position, otherwise they'd all be in trouble. The girl in the front, a strikingly pretty black girl with a glare that looked too comfortable to be an act, casually twirled a thin riding crop between the fingers of her right hand. It was clear that she was very familiar with the flogger's usage and had no compunction about exercising it. Cassandra quickly diverted her eyes, glad that her instinct prevented her from earning the attention of that crop. Cassandra spent more time looking at the feet of the other two rather than their faces. She was already going to be singled-out by being a late admission. The last thing she needed was to draw more attention to herself by pissing off an upperclassman. There was a sudden buzz from the door and Cassandra's support fell away, dumping her unceremoniously into an office that matched the decor of the hallway almost perfectly. There was a vain hope that nobody had seen her little tumble, but those hopes were quickly dashed. 'Excuse me, Miss,' a vapid voice rose, its owner clearly hiding her amusement. 'But do you have an appointment?' It was one of those voices you heard from the bimbos on TV. The kind that made sounding dumb somehow also sexy. 'Do you need help or something?' 'No', Cassandra groaned as she rose to her feet. The room was less of an office and more of a waiting room. Like the kind of waiting room that the really expensive lawyers have. Wood paneling, potted plants, fancy paintings in gold frames. The works. The only thing that stood out was the receptionist and her absurd little desk. Both of which looked like they belonged in a Barbie playset. The desk itself offered the receptionist no dignity at all. It was about four inches too short and a bright pink plastic. It also offered her no privacy board, giving Cassandra quite the show. The secretary's legs were shackled to the bottom of her chair, leaving her legs spread beneath the desk. Her clean-shaven snatch showed clearly beneath the hem of her tiny skirt, and Cassandra had to guess that there was actually a light beneath the desk to make sure that the receptionist's lower half was on display. 'Excuse me,' the receptionist repeated, 'is there something I can do for you?' Even behind the accent was a boredom and annoyance. A tone that suited the candy pink lip gloss and bright blonde pigtails perfectly. 'Oh, um, sorry.' Cassandra's eyes fixated on one of the paintings just above and to the right of the receptionist. An abstract or cubist piece? Cassandra honestly couldn't tell one painting apart from another, but it made for a great way to keep from staring at the receptionist's exposed sex. 'I was, uh, looking for the Dean's office?' 'Which dean, babe? We got, like, six of 'em here.' 'Oh! Um, Dean Garlin. Students and admissions?' The receptionist let out a long, pained sigh, and Cassandra could envision the eye roll that went along with it. 'Well, lucky you, I guess. You're here. You're, um, Cassi, right?' 'Cassandra Whi-' 'Thought you were blonde.' The receptionist interrupted, her long pink nails clacking away at the similarly pink keyboard in front of her. Cassandra blanched a bit. Had she put her hair color on her application? There was enough paperwork involved, she supposed that she must have. 'I had it dyed a coupl-' 'Dean Garlin's not gonna like that.' She tugged on her own pigtail. 'He likes us bright 'n perky.' She clattered away for a second longer before loudly tapping the 'enter' key on her Mattel-brand keyboard. 'Nice shirt, by the way. Very on the nose. You tryin' to, like, hint at somethin' there?' Cassandra stood confused for a second before glancing down at her baggy t-shirt. 'Iron Maiden' staired back in giant red letters. 'You sure you wanna go in there lookin' like that, babe? You got a uniform, didn'cha?' Cassandra absolutely had received the uniform about a week before departure. She had since tried it on every night in the privacy of her own bedroom. It was a scant little thing, composed of a provocatively short pleated blue skirt, a crisp button-down blouse made of a sheer white fabric that was just translucent enough to show off the lack of a bra and just short enough to expose plenty of midriff. That midriff was easily Cassandra's least-favorite part of the ensemble. She just did not have the tiny, flat tummy that the girls in the brochure had! Her favorite part, though, had to be the shoes. Not only were they her first pair of real high heels, but she had noticed the little metal loop on the ankle strap almost immediately. She just could not wait until someone decided to use that little loop to lock her into the erotic footwear. 'Soo, that slutty little vacant stare a 'yes', then?' The secretary had her chin resting on folded hands. Her predatory grin suited neither her glitzy face nor her bound position. Still, Cassandra caught herself diverting her gaze downward as she gave a contrite 'yes, ma'am' to the chair-bound Barbie. 'Where's it at, then?' 'It's in my bag. I was planning on changing as we left the airport.' 'Awww, is big, strong Cassi shy?' Cassandra heard the clacking of nails on plastic keys as the receptionist continued to converse in a casual tone. 'Bod like yours, you should be, like, super eager to show it off! Even those ugly jeans can't hide legs like those.' An uneasy quiet hung in the air, the silence tainted only by the clatter of the keyboard. Cassandra's lips pursed together as she felt a telltale heat enter both her cheeks and her loins from the receptionist's dressing down. She had expected to be lectured by the dean. She'd almost been looking forward to it. What she hadn't expected was the same treatment from his secretary. Was she really so low on the totem pole here? Her eyes flickered over the paperwork on the desk, recognizing the familiar layout of legal documentation. Were those EHIC forms? That would make sense, given how this place drew from all over the EU, and the students would need health coverage. She'd managed to get her own insurance sorted before leaving the US, surprised by how cheap it was. Although hopefully she wouldn't gain any injuries that needed hospitalization! 'Give you, like, a word of advice, or whatever?' The secretary continued, clearly unhappy with a lack of gab. 'Yeah, sure.' Cassandra would be happy for any kind of help at this point. 'You're better off, like, goin' in there naked.' 'What?' Cassandra's entire body clenched a little. 'Wait, what do y-' 'Master Garlin is gonna, like, rip you apart if you go into his office lookin' like that. You're totally going to have more luck gettin' on his good side if you show a little more skin than, like, none at all. Plus, like, how gnarly are those shoes? You do not want to track dirt into his office.' Cassandra's face paled. Why didn't she at least wear the shoes? She loved those shoes. But no, she had to wear something comfortable for the almost twenty-hour economy-class plane trip. Now, according to 'Office Bike Barbie', who had a lot more experience in this place than she did, she was going to have to walk into the dean's office stark nude? The door to the inner office clicked and swung open. A tall girl with a massive mane of bright red hair sauntered out. Her makeup was a disaster, lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged. She had the faraway look of someone coming down from quite the high as her eyes passed right over Cassandra like she wasn't even there. She wore that same slutty uniform that Cassandra had tried on at home for the last week, but it looked so different on her. Cassandra had tried the skimpy outfit on, but this girl wore it. It was like the scant bits of cloth were part of her person, her identity. 'Can you buzz me out, Porsh?' The girl asked the receptionist as she stepped past. As she did, it gave the apparently invisible Cassandra a look at the very severe accessory attached to the redhead's uniform. Cassandra had seen armbinders online, hell she could accurately identify this one as a leather boxtie armbinder, but up close, seeing them in use and in motion, was something else entirely. No wonder the redhead had looked so thin! 'Yeah, sure thing, Fi. Are we still hanging out Wednesday?' Cassandra heard the receptionist reply, though her attention was firmly fixed on the armbinder. The outer door clicked open, the redhead having to wait for it to slowly swing wide enough that she could get through. 'Unless Marco tells me otherwise, yeah. Meet at three?' 'Whatever! You, like, wish he cared enough about you to tell you your schedule.' 'He's coming around.' The redhead tossed her hair back with a well-practiced swing of her head as she stood in the doorway. 'He just needs to know I'm invested, is all. Ciao, babe!' 'Ciao!' The receptionist yelled back as the outer door swung closed again. 'All right, Cassi baby, you're up next. You made up your mind on what you're gonna wear in there?' Cassandra's eyes shot between the receptionist and the now open inner door. A lump formed in her throat. It was time to meet the dean. Chapter Two: Induction Session There was no time to change, and she certainly wasn't stripping down in front of the secretary. Trying to summon up her courage as best she could, she took a deep breath and then knocked against the door. 'You may enter.' It was a male voice, loud enough to be clearly heard through the heavy wood, and Cassandra obeyed, opening the door and stepping through. On the other side, was a large office, walls covered with shelves - heavy, leather-bound tomes predominated, but there were also curios and knickknacks, strange devices of leather, steel and rubber that made her sweat in nervous excitement, devices that looked like the things she'd seen online, but never expected to see in real life. A massive wooden desk dominated the far end of the room, paperwork spread across it. Behind it was a middle-aged man, wearing a suit jacket over a dark shirt, looked at her, silently judging her appearance. There was no sign of whatever he had been doing to the previous student - although from here she couldn't see his lower half, maybe his cock was out? She tried not to flush. Cassandra broke the silence, not wanting to
get in any trouble for wasting his time.
'Um, I'm Cassandra Whitney, I'm a new student? I was told to come here?' A smile broke out across his face. 'Ah, yes. Of course. I'm Dean Garlin, in charge of admissions, a pleasure to meet you. And you've already been introduced to Portia, my secretary. Now, please, sit.' He gestured at a heavy wooden chair in front of his desk, bolted to the ground, with thick leather straps on the armrests, more dangling from the backrest, to go around the neck and forehead. Cassandra's eyes drifted to the other chairs available, which were more normal and not clearly designed to restrain the occupant, but obeyed, sitting down. Dean Garlin rang a bell, a single crystalline chime ringing out, the door swiftly opening, Portia entered. The ankle chain was still in place, dragging on the floor, the end around the desk having released. She stopped for a moment, snapping it around her other ankle, hobbling herself. The girl moved closed to her, almost rubbing up against her, so close that Cassandra could smell something on her breath - minty chewing gum? There was a metal snap, and one of her wrists was bound to the chair, leather tightly confining her, the same action repeated on the other side. Her ankles are also strapped to the chair, and then a strap was bound around her neck. She had to sit straight up, otherwise the leather bit into her neck, restricting her breathing. 'Thank you, Portia. She helps me with the student body, in... various ways. Now, Cassandra, I understand you have been asking our legal team a lot of interesting questions? Interesting enough that they think you worthy of admission.' With her head restrained, her vision was limited to what was in front of her, Portia somewhere off to the side, out of sight. The Dean picked up a wooden paddle, lightly tapping it against his hand. 'The other students all started about two months ago, meaning you will have a lot of ground to make up, I'm afraid. So, a swift remedial course might be needed. Wouldn't you agree, Cassandra?' Her hands clenched on the armrests, eyes darting around, finally focusing on the items on the shelves, glimpsing a cupboard at the back, filled with "toys". Ball gags, crops, canes, dildos and vibrators, and all sorts of other equipment she couldn't recognize are there, piled up and almost spilling out, as he struck his hand with the paddle again, a solid, meaty noise. She can see his trousers tent, her eyes going wide. 'I asked you a question, Cassandra, and I expect an answer. I'm sure you read all the documentation, and are fully aware of the sort of education we offer?' She nodded, or tried to, the leather strap biting into her neck. Sharp fingers pinched her neck, Portia making her presence known. 'When the Dean asks a question, he expects a nice, clear answer.' 'Thank you, Portia. So, Cassandra, are you willing to submit yourself to a swift education, to try and catch up with your peers?' He approached with paddle loosely held in a hand. She swallowed nervously. 'Yes.' The paddle struck her on the left breast, and she can feel her piercing pushing against her body, her clothing offering little padding. Portia pinches her again, whispering into her ear. 'The Dean wishes to be called "Sir" when addressed.' 'Quite right. In this place, you will observe the hierarchies, and obey and respect your betters. Which, at this moment in time, is almost everyone. Do you understand, Cassandra?' 'Yes. Yes, Sir.' The paddle struck her again, the other breast this time. 'An improvement but do get it right on the first try. As I'm sure you know, we do have a strict uniform code, which you are currently in breach of. As of your entry onto the campus today, you fall under our disciplinary code. Which you are rather flagrantly in breach of. Is there a reason you aren't in uniform? It was sent out to you.' 'I was going to change here. Sir.' 'Not good enough, you should have been wearing it from when you arrived on campus. Portia, if you would ready her for her uniform?' There was a dry metallic "snip", as Portia reached over and starts cutting off her t-shirt with fabric scissors, easily slicing through the fabric, then tearing it away. Her breasts came into view, her bra getting cut away as well. The paddle reached out, lightly tapping against her nipple-piercings. 'These promise to be rather entertaining. Any thoughts, Portia?' As the girl snipped away at Cassandra's jeans, she answered. 'I think wire her up to a battery, maybe? She looks like she would jiggle nicely, sir.' She ran her hands along Cassandra's belly, squeezing at her flesh, a single finger sliding into her bellybutton. A swift blow against each breast stilled any complaint Cassandra might make, Portia keeping her head down so as not to get into the way. Her jeans were sliced apart, material pulled away from her body, until all she was wearing was her G-string. 'Possibly. Although she does have quite a nice body. Something a bit different than most of the student body. Tell me, Cassandra, where are you from?' Cassandra tried not to squirm too much. 'Northern Wisconsin, sir. I grew up living on a farm, helping out my aunt.' 'Ah, that would explain it. You certainly look as though you've lived a healthy life, I'm sure there will be many here keen to appreciate your body.' The paddle tapped each breast, Portia moving away as the paddle moved down to her navel, poking between her legs. With her ankles strapped to the chair, she couldn't close her thighs, only uselessly tense them. 'Now, what subjects were you wishing to study? Nice and clearly, so I know how best to assign you.' Portia started playing with her breasts, bony fingers cupping her breasts, playing with the piercings, twisting and pulling. 'International law, sir.' She hissed when nails pinch into her soft skin - are all the other students like this? Hopefully she won't be staying in the same dorm as Portia! 'Oh? And what other subjects? The curriculum here is far more extensive.' She twisted against her bonds, trying to move away from Portia's sharp fingers, as much as the question. 'I, um... I want to study...' She trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, her face burning red. 'When I, or any other teacher, or any of the students ranked above you, ask you a question, we expect a clear, explicit answer. If a student is in error, then remedial correct can be applied, swiftly and mercilessly.' He turned the paddle around, and Cassandra saw that the handle was shaped like a cock, although there are teeth marks along the shaft. He pushed it into her mouth. 'Bite.' She obeyed, clamping her teeth around the wood. It's solid and heavy, hard to keep in place. 'As you couldn't give a full answer, then you will be denied your mouth for a while. Until Portia here makes sure your schedule is correct, and that you have somewhere to stay. I'm sure one of the dorms will be happy to host an extra resident. And should she fail, then I'm sure she will be chastened appropriately, isn't that right, Portia?' Cassandra could just about make out Portia's face as she paled, her probing fingers drawing back. 'Yes sir! Samantha volunteered her services.' 'That is not a surprise, that one seems to work herself almost as hard as she works her submissives. Good girl, Portia. Now, let me see, what can be done to make this a teaching exercise, Cassandra?' He went over to his desk and took an apple from a fruit bowl. He took a bite, then placed the rest of it on the paddle. 'Keep that in place, otherwise further discipline will be needed.' She made an "aaahhh" noise, about the only sound she could make with the wooden shaft in her mouth. Portia scuttled off, the door closing behind her, leaving her alone with the Dean, trying to keep the paddle in place with her jaw, feeling the strain already. 'You were blonde in your picture.' His eyes glanced down at her crotch, seeing the soft, blonde fuzz there. 'And you choose to dye it black? That can be remedied, at least.' She tried to grunt a protest but was ignored. 'It seems you got excellent grades, despite being from a rather, ah, rural area. Impressive, you must be proud of your academic achievements.' She grunted again. She'd worked damn hard to get out of that place! 'But your fashion sense... All baggy t-shirts and jeans, all dark. That will need work. Something in lighter colors, a little more girly and feminine? I shall have to have Miss Braid attend to you.' Cassandra tried to shake her head, the tiny amount of movement she was allowed, the apple wobbling dangerously as she did so. She didn't want to be dressed up like that! 'Careful, you wouldn't want that to drop. Twenty lashes would be the usual punishment, but you haven't had time to toughen up, so may feel the impact rather more than the submissives at the level of experience you would be expected to have.' She squeaks through the gag. She knew what the place was, but to be so casual about it! Twenty lashes? Would that be across her backside, her breasts, where? And with the paddle, or a cane, or something else? Thoughts and fantasies sprang to mind, the things she had dreamed of, touched herself to before, seen pictures of, but never imagined would be done to her. 'Ah, you appear stimulated. Good, you should fit in here.' He looked into her eyes, then glanced down, and she realized she was starting to get wet. 'I think some special lessons, to make sure you're fully caught up. I'll have you taken to Miss Braid's domain for a workover, and have something special made, just for you. Until then, some punishment for failing to wear you uniform, and then a few more strikes for good measure. So, do be a good little girl, nice and quiet.' He vanished from view, a thwip sounding from somewhere nearby, making Cassandra start, the apple rocking before she recovered herself. Dean Garlin's voice sounded from behind, far too close. 'If that drops, remember what it means for you. Now, normally I would make a student count the strikes, and ask for each one, but your mouth is already occupied. So, I suppose you will have to trust me to keep count correctly.' He stepped back into view, now holding a cane. He flicked it in front of her, making it stop just shy of impact with her thighs. 'You will have ample opportunity to get used to these over your stay here.' He flicked it again, hitting the top of a thigh, watching the impact on her flesh. This was repeated on the other leg. The impact stung, although the pain swiftly faded, before he moved to test it elsewhere on her body - arms, breasts, stomach, all bore the sting of impact. 'Normally, I would mark a student up and leave them with something to show for my efforts. But I think a general introduction will work better for you.' He increased the pace of his assault, the pain starting to add up now, impacts on top of previous impacts, stings taking longer to fade. Her breath quickened, as she fought to keep her grip strong on the paddle, trying to wrap her tongue around the handle as well, to further hold it in place. When he caught her piercings was the most painful, the metal tugging on her skin, and he clearly knew this, taking some time to focus on just them, alternating between them, until she was squirming in pain. 'Well, I think that should suffice for now. Now, think about what you've done, and I'll finish off your induction paperwork.' He released a latch on the chair's base and rotated it around so she was facing the wall. There was a painting of two figures, bound onto metal frames, their bodies marked with whip-welts, showing clear marks of sexual use. She could hear the Dean going about his business, paper shuffling, dealing with admin, as she wondered how long it will be until she was released. Her jaw ached, but not as much as her tits, both sore. Chapter Three: New Model Student Faced away from the Dean, Cassandra tested her bonds. The straps were leather, tight around her limbs - not so tight as to threaten her circulation or breathing, at least if she kept her head up, but she couldn't manage more than the slightest movement. She couldn't even kick her heels against the chair or do much of anything other than drum her fingers against the wooden arms (which she didn't, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself), or move her eyes. The shelves in front of her held a diverse, erotic and mildly terrifying collection of items - definitely not a display case, from how they were arranged, they looked as though they had been used and then tossed there. A rubbery black dildo she recognized, although the size was intimidated. Several complicated-looking loops of metal connected by chains, she was less sure of, until she looked again, realizing they were nipple clamps. There was a leather hood, lipstick daubed across it in an unreadable message, an old-fashioned cane, several gags of various styles, and some kind of metal bulb-device, a screw on one end indicating it could be opened. What was that for? She tried to imagine - she'd not seen anything similar in the limited amount of porn she'd been able to download, having to watch it in hurried snatches, worried that her aunt would interrupt her. Maybe it was a buttplug? But it was larger than any of those she'd seen, and why would it open? Surely it didn't go inside someone and then get spread wide? She reflexively clenched. She'd read the paperwork, making sure she understood exactly what she was signing up to, and what rights she was signing away, at least for the duration of her stay, but... it looked pretty big, even without unfurling. She shivered, suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness, breasts slightly sore from the paddle impacts. Her jaw was aching, clamped tightly around the handle of the paddle. The apple had wobbled a few times, but she'd managed to keep it in place. Would she really be punished for letting it drop? From what it had said in the (impressively comprehensive) legal documentation, they were entirely in their legal rights to do so, but shouldn't there be some build-up or something first? Hopefully there were some handsome men amongst the students - the Dean wasn't bad looking but was a bit old for her tastes. She could hear him going about his business, somewhere out of sight, papers rustling, the click of a mouse, tapping of a keyboard. Even a place like this presumably needed decidedly unsexy administration being performed. The girl, Portia, came in a few times, having quick mumbled discussions, the snatches Cassandra could hear meaningless - room assignments, grade curves, an urgent delivery of rope needed by next week. Several times, outside the room, she heard a bell, muted by thick doors. That must mark the breaks between sessions or classes or something. It seemed strangely mundane, but, then again, she was naked, strapped into a chair and with a wooden cock in her mouth, trying to balance an apple on pain of a beating. Sometime later, the chair was spun around, startling Cassandra, her jaw opening, paddle falling onto her lap, apple rolling to the floor. Portia looked at her, an evil grin on her face, the Dean behind her, a cane already in hand. 'And you were doing so well. I have other business to attend to, so shall leave you to Portia. She shall see you clothed and a few other things.' The Dean reached out and touched her hair, frowning. 'This, in particular. Now, your punishment then.' He flicked the cane, the slicing noise making her wince, imaging what it would feel like on her skin. Would it be her breasts, her butt? Not her pussy, surely? Portia spoke. 'Oh, but Dean, it is her first day. Should you not show a little mercy instead? Maybe something to try her how to improve rather than simply beating her?' 'Yes, I think you may be right, Portia. I've been looking through little Cassi's file, and think I know just what she needs.' It hurt to speak, from having had her jaw clenched for so long. 'It's "Cassandra", sir. Not "Cassi".' Far too many patronizing adults in the past, shortening her name. The Dean ignored her. 'I think Cassi here could do with some styling.' He patted her on the head. 'Such a shame for a natural blonde to darken it. And I've arranged a special costume for her as well.' Portia was smiling at her, although not in a kindly fashion. 'Isn't that nice of the Dean, Cassi? To spare you the caning you deserve, and even give you some nice, new clothing? Aren't you going to say thank you, Cassi?' The cane cut the air again, sound making her shiver. She'd tried hitting herself a few times, but never very hard. Would it hurt? Well, obviously it would, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out quite how much - he looked quite strong, and probably knew how to cause the most pain with each strike. She swallowed nervously, the truth of what she had signed up to starting to hit home. They could do... well, not quite anything, but quite a lot of things, some of which she hadn't had the time to look up but sounded equally enticing and unpleasant. What even was irrumatio, tribadism or kinbaku? She spoke hurriedly. 'Thank you, Dean.' The cane whisked again, stopping just shy of her breast, before tapping a piercing. 'So, you would rather have a nice new outfit, rather than the cane?' 'Yes. Please.' The cane moved again, this time striking her breast. The surprise of it was worse than the impact itself, a sear of pain across sensitive skin. 'Owww!' 'Was she told she could make a noise?' 'No, Dean, she wasn't.' 'I'm sorry!' Cassandra tried to pull against her bonds, the leather straps too tight to escape from. The cane struck again, this time against the other breast. Portia grinned again, more vicious now. 'She's not using the correct form of address, Sir. I think that deserves some further punishment, doesn't it?' 'I'm sorry Sir!' She could feel the welts sinking into her body, breasts heating up from the assault. And that was only two, what would twenty feel like? The cane flicked forward again, and she tensed in preparation, but it stopped just shy of flesh. 'So, little Cassi, then you agree to your punishment? Rather than taking the strokes, you will accept your new outfit? And "Cassi" is so much easier to say than "Cassandra", isn't it?' Her eyes fixated on the cane, currently stationary in front of her, hoping it wouldn't raise and lower again. 'Yes, sir. I do, sir.' The cane moved and she winced, but it moved away, without hitting her. 'Good girl.' He patted her on the head again, her annoyance at being patronized mingling with relief from avoiding further punishment. 'Now, Portia, if you would take her away? I suppose she may wear the uniform there, to show her what she may earn, should she be good.' 'Yes, Sir.' As Portia unstrapped and unbuckled Cassandra from the chair, she poked her bony fingers and scraped with her nails more than seemed necessary, smiling whenever Cassandra showed any signs of pain or discomfort. When she could move again, Portia handed over a bundle of clothing, which Cassandra was only too pleased to put on. It was the same uniform as she'd seen early - although the skirt was significantly shorter, and the shirt was made of thin material, the blazer helping a little. It was still better than being naked, although the lack of panties was shamefully obvious with every breezy step she took. 'Good. Follow me, Cassi. And if you don't obey everything I say, then I'll have you taken downstairs. Do you understand?' Her expression made Cassandra shiver. 'Yes, um, Miss Portia.' She got pinched on the neck, hard. 'You really do have a lot to learn, don't you? I'm only a student here, so simply "Portia" will do. Although I rank far, far above the likes of you.' Cassandra couldn't move away, Portia's grip too tight. 'Yes, Portia.' The grip released. 'Good. Now, don't forget it, Cassi. Follow me, you still have classes to attend today.' Her tone turned sugary-sweet as she spoke to the Dean. 'I'll take Cassi to get prepared, and then return here. We have that afternoon meeting to attend to, after all.' He didn't respond, simply gesturing at her to leave. Before she did, she moved behind Cassandra, who tensed, as something clipped around her neck, stiff leather snapping into place as a collar was locked into place. Portia clipped a leash onto the front, and then tugged it, commanding Cassandra to move. 'Wouldn't want anyone thinking you're a dominant now, would we?' As she was led through the hallways by her neck, Cassandra's thoughts were in a whirl. With every step, she could feel that there was nothing underneath her skirt, her shirt rubbing against her bare breasts, and she was starting to get excited. She was startled from her reverie when Portia slid a door open, and they stepped through into... a beauty salon. Clinically white and gleaming, with bright mirrors on the walls, neatly arranged cabinets of makeup, scent of various beauty products in the air. There were basins in front of several of the mirrors, the chairs made so they could be pivoted, allowing for easy submersion of the hair of those sat down. Normal beauty parlors didn't have restraints on the seats though - padded cuffs made to lock people in. They were approached by a woman, wearing tight leather trousers and a leather vest, her arms wrapped in elbow-length latex gloves, her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail. She looked at Cassandra, assessing her. 'This is the student? Pretty thing. Although this isn't the best.' She plucked at Cassandra's hair. 'Did you do it yourself?' Cassandra nodded, not sure if she was allowed to speak. 'Yes, it shows. As do your roots. Don't worry, I'll sort it out. And get her dressed.' She took the leash from Portia. 'Is there anything else? I'm sure you have other business to be about.' She stepped forward, hand reaching towards Portia's chin. 'You could do with a little work yourself.' Portia stepped back, brushing the woman's hand away. 'I am far too busy, with important business! Can you ready her as instructed?' The woman stepped closer again, looming over Portia despite their similar sizes. 'Hmmm, I wonder if the Dean would prefer his assistant with a little more color? Perhaps I should ask him?' She ran a hand through Portia's hair, although Cassandra could see her hand gripping as she moved. Portia couldn't retreat again, as the woman's hand was snarled up in her hair. 'That won't be necessary, Miss Braid. Please see to it that she is treated as instructed.' The beautician released her hand, Portia making a hasty retreat. As soon as she was gone, the woman sighed, shaking her head. 'Fucking kiss-ass. Anyway, would you like to be restrained or not? Quite a few seem to prefer it.' Cassandra shook her head. 'You can talk, it makes things easier. Cassie, right?' 'Yes, um, Mistress?' 'Just "Miss Braid" will do, I'm not that strict. So please, sit down, and I'll get your hair sorted. You really should have had it done professionally; you know.' Cassandra obeyed, sitting down - the chair was comfortably padded, and wouldn't have looked out of place at any hairdressers or beauty salon. Then her hand brushed a leather belt, reminding her of the truth of this place. She went tense, especially when the chair spun around and dipped, her head submerging into a basin of water, Miss Braid humming to herself. An assistant appeared, a young woman dressed in a tight, short dress, knotted at one shoulder. Miss Braid sighed, then spoke again. 'Want her to eat you out? She's been wanting to practice. Sven is meant to be here as well, if you'd prefer a man, but I think he's sick today.' Cassandra shifted her legs awkwardly, reminded of her bare crotch. She'd never had that done to her by another woman! She shook her head. 'Fair enough. It'll make it easier; some people start moving, and that makes things harder. Had to strap some of the dominants down, stop them wriggling, and then they get stroppy. I get the idea but getting bleach in your eyes because you wanted oral sex at the same time as a dye job is just daft.' Her hands were quick and dexterous, soothing as they tidied up Cassandra's hair. She quickly succumbed to tiredness and jetlag, falling into a light doze. She was woken up by a gentle tap to the forehead, Miss Braid standing over her. 'Didn't realize you were fresh off the plane! No wonder you're exhausted. Anyway, that's your hair done. I think I'll need to help you with your dress. Guess you must be into the "girly-girl" look?' Cassandra tried to move a hand, a leather strap stopping her. 'You nodded off, so it seemed the easiest way to keep you from moving around.' Her fingers unbuckle the strap, restoring Cassandra's freedom. 'She wanted to give you a happy wakeup as well, but I managed to hold her off.' She moved closer, whispering to Cassandra. 'She's a bit, um, thirsty, I think I'll have to have her gagged. Anyway, come with me.' She pulled on the leash, but only gently, Cassandra rising to follow. The assistant looked at her, raising her dress for just a moment, showing off her bare pussy beneath, licking her lips seductively. Miss Braid sighed again. 'In the corner and wait for the next customer.' The girl looked disappointed, but obeyed, taking a position by the door. 'I appreciate the thought, but I need to get Cassie ready. You can practice your skills on the next customer.' Cassandra let herself be led into a changing room; a curtain pulled across to shroud them from view. A dress hung from the wall, garishly pink latex, slightly translucent, with frills along the bust, and cuffs attached along the very short skirt, for some reason. 'Now, strip. Unless you'd rather I do it for you?' 'No thank you, Miss Braid.' She started to remove her clothing, the cramped confines making it hard to move without brushing against Miss Braid. With her leather clothing, she must be a dominant? And in charge of the other girl. Then she saw herself in the mirror - her hair, that had been raven-black, was now vivid blonde, and fluffed up, light and bright, like a pretty little doll. She winced - no-one would take her seriously now! And with the dress as well! She undressed, looking away from Miss Braid, twitching nervously as the latex-wrapped hands touched her, helping her to undress with surprising gentleness. When she was naked, Miss Braid got the dress. 'Now, arms up. You're under orders to wear this until told otherwise, so you'll have to take care of it. Ask your roommates if you're not sure how to take care of latex, you can't just throw it in the washing machine. And the Dean doesn't like it when people disobey, so be a good girl, OK?' She pulled it over Cassandra's head. It was tight, pushing against her, clinging to her body, needing to be carefully stretched and tweaked into place. It was partially transparent, her nipples clearly visible through the material, as a white ribbon was tied around her waist. Then Miss Braid took one of her wrists, and the cuff attached to the skirt, wrapping it around her skin. This was repeated on the other side. 'Try and move your arms.' It didn't restrict her movement much, but if she moved her arms, then the skirt would rise up, flashing her crotch and butt. The skirt was short enough that just normal movement would threaten to reveal her entirely. 'Quite clever, I suppose, in a rather straightforward way. Guess you're into exhibitionism and stuff?' She fluffed up Cassandra's hair, tying it into fluffy pigtails. 'That should do. Now, your first class is with Miss Aith. If you take a left from here, go through the undercrypt, then a right, and it's the big art studio, you can't miss it. Um, if she asks, could you tell her I'm really busy today?' Cassandra twisted her shoulders, still getting the feel of her new dress. It was shoulderless, cut low to reveal her breasts. She wanted to tug at it, but didn't dare move her hands to do so, only able to twist enough to feel the hem of the dress. 'Yes, Miss Braid.' 'Good. If you need a touchup, and you can get your dominant to sign off on it, then come back. Or if you're allowed your normal uniform back. Now get going, next period starts soon.' They moved back into the main room - the attendant was seeing to another customer, delicately applying makeup to their face, brushes stroking and flicking. Miss Braid unclipped the leash, before giving her a friendly shove out the door. 'Good luck, Cassie!' |