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The Scholarship

By: pixie2002



It was just two weeks into my senior year of college, and I had a real problem. If I wanted to stay in school and finish my degree this year, I needed to come up with a $10,000 tuition payment by the end of the month.

I was a good student—very good, in fact. I had been on the Dean's List every semester, I participated in a number of campus organizations, and was one of those students that the college administration likes to "show off" when important alumni and major donors come to campus.

They probably didn't mind that I was also fairly attractive. Some would probably say good looking, in fact. Five feet, three inches tall, 115 pounds with shoulder-length brown hair and large, expressive brown eyes. My breasts, which were 34-C, look more than ample on my small frame.

I had managed to avoid the pitfalls suffered by most college students. I didn't succumb to the first-year drinking and humping that seems to be a rite of passage. It's really a pity because I missed out on most of that in high school, as well. Indeed, my friends would probably call me naïve and inexperienced in the ways of the partying world. 

I wasn't a virgin. I had surrendered that my junior year of high school in appreciation for an invitation to the Senior Prom. Tom Wilson was one of the school "jocks," and a real catch—especially for a date to the prom. Unfortunately, his moves were a lot better on the football field, and I ended up with that "is that all there is" feeling common to many high school encounters. One of us came that night, but it sure wasn't me.

I'd had only one serious relationship in college. I fell hard for Phil Smith, a fellow business student who always seemed to end up in my study group. He was cute, had a great sense of humor, and as it turned out, a very nice seven-inch cock. And unlike Tom Wilson, Phil knew how to use it.

We made love for the first time after our third date. We returned to Phil's apartment. He lit some candles, turned on soft music and poured us each a glass of wine. I began to suspect that he might have planned this in advance. Not that I minded.

He was sweet and gentle as he kissed my lips, then moved slowly down to my neck and lingered there for just the right amount of time. My senses began to heighten as he slowly ran his left hand from my neck to my waist, while he continued to kiss me deeply and caress my ear.

Finally, he slipped his hand under my top and fondled my breasts outside my white lace bra. My nipples were responding enthusiastically, and I could feel them grow hard and erect under his touch. So could Phil, as he rolled my right nipple between his thumb and finger.

I heard myself moan, and Phil responded to this encouragement by slipping my bra strap from my shoulder, causing my breast to spill out. He slowly kneaded it, but with more firmness, before releasing my other breast, as well. Phil raised my top over my head and quickly unclasped my now-useless bra. Smiling, he leaned back for a moment to admire me.

"You are absolutely beautiful," he whispered.

His mouth went to my breasts, slowly circling the nipples with the tip of his tongue. He moved lazily from one to the other. With each caress of his tongue, my nipple became wetter and wetter with his saliva and more sensitive to his touch. 

Phil was a gentle lover, as he teased my nipples for what seemed like hours before finally taking one between his teeth. The mild pain seemed to shoot directly from my nipple to my pussy, which had by now soaked through my thong underwear and created a wet spot on my blue jeans.

Leaving my breast, Phil unbuttoned my jeans, pulled down the zipper and lifted my bottom as he pulled them off. Next came my panties, which he quickly removed, as well.

As I felt the cool air of the room on my warm, wet pussy, my hand unconsciously reached to cover myself. I couldn't believe how hot and I had grown between my legs. My juices already ran in tiny rivulets from my steaming hole to the crack of my ass. My outer lips were swollen and sensitive, and my clit was already peeking out from its hood.

"Take your clothes off," I ordered, and Phil stripped quickly, practically tripping himself as he tried to get out of his pants. I laughed quietly, but for only a moment. He slowly pulled down his boxers and released this beautiful firm cock that showed exactly how much he wanted me.

Without thinking, I was moving my hand lightly over my pussy, and by the time Phil and that magnificent cock started toward me, I realized that my middle finger was already buried deep inside me. I was literally aching for release from this burning sexual tension that had been building inside me ever since I was old enough to imagine what great fucking must be like.

"Let me help you with that," he said quietly as he removed my hand and replaced it with his tongue. He made a agonizingly slow circle with his tongue along the outside of my swollen pussy lips, then suddenly flattened his tongue and licked me firmly from my ass to my throbbing clit. His tongue repeated that trip several times, each time with a slight increase in pressure. 

Occasionally, his tongue would ever-so-slightly graze my asshole, shocking me with the intensity of the sensation. Before long, I began to raise my hips and offer my tiny virgin bud to him to make sure he made contact with it during each exquisite lick.  

Phil was no longer gentle, and I didn't want him to be. He stiffened his tongue and plunged it into me as deeply as possible, repeating these hard strokes again and again. At the same time, his fingers circled my clit, faster with every thrust of his tongue.

Finally, as I thought I couldn't stand any more stimulation, he inserted his finger and massaged the upper wall of my wet hole. He took my clit in his teeth, and my pussy literally exploded. The violent contractions radiated out to every part of my body. I felt my face and chest flushing.

"Fuck my pussy . . . fuck it . . . fuck . . .," someone screamed. I'm pretty sure it was me. I had experienced by far the most intense orgasm of my life and the first not brought about with my own hand.

When my spasms had nearly subsided, Phil raised himself to kiss me, and I could taste my cum on his lips. As our tongues met, I could feel his stiff cock teasing the outside of my now inflamed pussy. I reached around him with both hands, grabbed his hips and pulled him roughly to me.

His cock entered in a single motion, surprising both of us as I buried him in me. The surprise quickly gave way to an intense hunger. Our bodies, not our minds, were now in control, and they demanded to cum . . . and fast.

As Phil pounded his cock into me again and again, my hips rose to meet him. He made one final thrust and seemed to freeze. The only movement I felt was a huge spasm of his cock, then another and another, as he shot his cum deep inside me, and the sensation of my pussy as I gripped him again and again with my own orgasm.

That night, as we lay sweaty and spent in each other's arms, we pledged our enduring love. Unfortunately, three weeks later I surprised him at his apartment and caught him fucking another girl from our study group.

After that disappointment, I redoubled my commitment to my studies. And as of now, my sex life consists entirely of self-pleasure. Usually done late at night in the dark of my room as my roommate, Marni, gets herself off, too. We both try to be quiet and neither of us has ever acknowledged what's going on. But I know. Marni knows. And we enjoy the unspoken sexuality between us.

Perhaps I had missed out on some fun in college, but I tried to keep my eyes focused on my ultimate goal. Graduating with honors and moving on with my life.

But all my hard work threatened to come to naught if I couldn't come up with the $10,000 tuition payment. And fast.

These things were all running through my head as I hurried across campus to the Business Building during this second Saturday in September. It was Alumni Weekend, and the administration wanted to show me off, along with some of my fellow students, at a reception commemorating the naming of the Business Building in memory of the late George P. Steele, who had recently died and bequeathed $10 million to his alma mater—more than enough to get his name on a building forever.

Hell, he probably could have gotten himself a blow job from the Dean's wife for that much money—if only he were still around to enjoy it.

I had been told that Mr. Steele's widow would be the honored guest today, and of course we were to put our best foot forward. The goal was to make her think that every student on campus was just like these carefully-selected honor students.

I had always loved the Business Building, with its majestic wide staircase leading up to the main entrance. The lawn out front was neatly manicured and sprinkled generously with stately old trees, their lower branches reaching heavily toward the ground. I reached the top of the stairs, pushed the door open and put on my best all American student face.

"Welcome Sarah," Dean Holt greeted me. "I appreciate your taking part of your Saturday to help us show Mrs. Steele how much we appreciate the magnificent bequest from her husband's estate." The Dean had a practiced, almost slick manner that demonstrated his years of experience in schmoozing with donors.

"The reception is about to start, and Mrs. Steel is in the receiving line across the lobby. Please go introduce yourself to her."

As I made my way across the lobby, I began to rehearse what I would say to Mrs. Steele while we engaged in the obligatory small talk of these events. From past experience, I knew that old ladies are generally easy to talk with, and are most grateful that young people are interested in what they have to say.

As I looked to identify Mrs. Steele in the crowd, I stopped in my tracks. The woman at the head of the receiving line, whose name tag indicated that she was indeed Mrs. Steele, was no more than 40 years old. She was quite beautiful in a severe sort of way.

Her wavy, brown hair just touched the shoulders of her fashionably tailored suit jacket. The matching skirt, which hit just above the knee, was black with charcoal pinstripes. Her jacket was buttoned just high enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, and I caught a glimpse of a lacy orange camisole peeking out from beneath.

But the thing that caught and held my attention were her boots. They were fashioned from shiny black leather and reached up each shapely leg nearly to her knee. "Odd footwear for alumni weekend," I thought, but I was transfixed by the sight of those boots nonetheless.

I knew right then that I needed to revise the conversational script that I had worked on in my head. I could tell by looking at Mrs. Steele that she was unlikely to be interested in gardening and grandchildren. As I struggled to come up with another approach, a thought hit me!

It was brilliant and dangerous at the same time. It could solve my tuition problem, or possibly get me kicked out of school. However it turned out, I was desperate for money and I had to give it a try.

As I had stood for quite some time, intently examining Mrs. Steele and thinking things over, I hadn't realized that the crowd of well-wishers surrounding her had begun to disperse. I dropped by gaze once more to the boots she wore, and my eyes lingered there once more. I didn't understand why, but my senses heightened and I felt a strange sense of anticipation.

As my eyes wandered once more from Mrs. Steel's boots to her face, I realized I'd been staring too long. Her eyes locked mine and by the time I could make myself look away, I knew that my face must be crimson.

Flushed with embarrassment and some other vague emotions I couldn't quite identify, I made my way toward Mrs. Steele. By the time I reached her, she was alone. She extended her hand. "Miranda Steele," she said in a voice that let me know right away she was accustomed to giving orders. Her smile was not so much warm as it was intriguing. 

"Hello, Mrs. Steele, my name is Sarah. I'm a senior in the College of Business, and I just want to let you know how much we appreciate the wonderful bequest from your late husband." There. That ought to make the Dean happy.

"Why thank you, dear," she cooed. "Sarah is it?"

"That's right," I responded as her eyes looked me up and down slowly.

At that moment, I was glad that I had brought out my favorite dress for the occasion. It was really a modest little sun dress with thin straps that lay on my shoulders, which still had some color left from my time outdoors during summer vacation. It showed just enough cleavage to make it interesting, and I could tug it down a bit if I wanted to show a little more.

It hit me just below the knee, and revealed that I wore no stockings. But it was the color I liked best . . . a bright yellow that flattered my brown hair and eyes. My open-toed shoes revealed that I had taken time to do my toenails right before the reception.

A look in Mrs. Steele's eyes told me that she liked what she saw. "Tell me something, Sarah, she said softly, "what is it you like about my boots?" Again I burned red with embarrassment. "I saw you looking at them."

Not really knowing why her boots captivated me so, I timidly offered, "I just think they are very distinctive. They convey the sense that you are a very strong woman." "I am," she declared, and to my relief, our conversation moved on.

"Tell me a little about yourself, Sarah," she encouraged.

"Well, ma'am, I'm just starting my senior year here at the university. Majoring in Business. I'm on the Dean's list." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean Holt making his way toward us. I knew I had to work fast because I didn't want him to overhear this particular exchange. I hurried on with the part that the Dean wasn't going to like.

"Mrs. Steele," I said breathlessly, "do you ever give scholarships to students with great financial need?" There, it was on the table, and the Dean was getting closer.

Her eyes narrowed a bit and looked me over again. "As a matter of fact, I do . . . on occasion. What student did you have in mind?"

She knew what student I meant, but she was obviously going to make me discard the last bit of my pride and ask her directly. 

"For me, I responded. I have a $10,000 tuition payment due in two weeks. If I can't pay it, I'll have to drop out of school and work for a year. I'm really hoping to avoid that." I finished my last sentence just as the Dean joined us.

"Looks as if you two are having quite a visit," he smiled. But it was clear that he was not amused. He was curious about what I'd been talking about so intently with this important guest. "Anything I can help with?"

Before I could answer, Mrs. Steele dismissed him as only the wife of a $10 million donor could. "It's nothing to concern yourself with, Dean Holt. Sarah and I were talking about a research project she is working on. It's really quite interesting.

"As a matter of fact, I'd like to borrow your conference room for a few moments so we can finish our discussion in private." I don't think my mouth actually dropped open as she spoke, but it felt as if it was about to.

"Of course, Miranda," Dean Holt cooed, "Please make yourself at home."

I was grateful that Mrs. Steele had covered for me with the Dean, but I had the sense she had her own reasons. And they didn't necessarily include protecting me.

Dean Holt led us across the crowded lobby, down the hallway to his office. He unlocked the door to the conference room, turned on the lights and eyed us quizzically. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Mrs. Steele assured him we were fine indeed, and she closed the door behind him. That was all well and good. But then she locked it, too.

"Sit down, Sarah," she ordered before I could react. "Let's talk about the scholarship application."

"All right, Mrs. Steele, is there some paperwork I need to fill out?"

"Not exactly," she replied, "and please call me Miranda." This time her smile was not so intriguing as it was cold.

"To begin, I'll need to ask you a few questions. Some of them may seem a little . . . how shall I say . . . unusual. But I'm asking them to gauge your honesty and how you handle stressful situations."

"All right, Mrs. Steele," I replied nervously.

"Miranda," she corrected.

"Miranda," I replied, trying (in vain) to sound confident.

"Now Sarah, have you ever done anything of a sexual nature in order to get something you really wanted?"

"What?" I demanded, as I felt myself blush from the top of my breasts to the top of my forehead.

"You heard me," she shot back. "And remember, I value honesty above all else. If you lie to me, fail to answer a question, or refuse to complete any other part of the application process, my scholarship offer will be withdrawn."

"Let's begin again, shall we, Sarah? Now, have you ever done anything of a sexual nature in order to get something you wanted?"

"Yes. One time," I offered hesitantly. "When I was 18 years old, the summer after I graduated from high school, I was working as a waitress, trying to save enough money to buy a car to drive to school in the fall.."

"Go on, Sarah."

"The owner of the restaurant, Mr. Sparks, was really nice to me. But occasionally I'd see him looking at me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. I chalked it up to my imagination.

"At the end of the summer, I realized that I was about $500 short of what I needed to buy this sharp red convertible I had my eye on. I was whining about it to one of the other waitresses on my last day of work. Mr. Sparks overheard and asked me to stop by his office before I left for the day. " 

"And?"

"When I stopped by his office Mr. Sparks said he knew how I could earn that $500 I needed, if I was interested. Of course, I said yes."

"And what did he want you to do, Sarah?"

"It took him awhile to explain. He beat around the bush quite a bit, but when he finally got up the nerve, he told me he wanted to look at my tits while he jerked off. It was disgusting."

"But did you let him?"

"Yes," I said almost inaudibly, as I looked down. My eyes locked again on Miranda's black leather boots. I felt an unfamiliar tingling in the pit of my stomach.

"Please tell me about it."

"There really isn't much to tell. I took off my blouse and bra. He took out his cock and stroked himself." 

"Did he cum, Sarah?"

"Of course," I shot back. Her next question took me by surprise.

"Where did he cum?"

I took a deep breath. "All over my tits," I answered, my eyes looking down at the boots again. This time, however, I noticed that Miranda's legs were slightly apart. I could see the tops of her stockings and the white skin of her legs just above.

"And how did that make you feel, Sarah?"

"Disgusted. Dirty."

"Like a little whore?"

"Yes."

"And how did you feel between your legs?"

My face burned again with embarrassment. "Wet." I confessed.

"Wet like you are right now?"

I just nodded my head. As I got up the courage to look at Miranda again, I saw that her legs were parted further and she had unbuttoned her blazer, revealing her lacy orange camisole. It was sheer enough that I was pretty sure I could see the darkening of her areola beneath.

I was certain I could see her nipples, as they were poking their way through the lace.

"You've done very well so far, Sarah," Miranda said, her voice breathy now. "Just a few more items and the application process will be complete.

"Now, Sarah, I want you to raise your dress, pull your panties aside—don't take them off—and show me exactly how wet you are right now."

"Why don't you show me how wet you are!" I shot back in frustration and shame.

"I'm conducting the interview, Sarah," she answered, her voice surprisingly calm. "Show me your wet cunt."


The Scholarship



"Have you heard anything Tracy?" Mrs. Jones asked her son. Who was busy playing the latest video game on the TV in the living room.

"No mom," Tracy said, his controller making the staccato tap-tap-tap his mother loathed. "I've been accepted at several schools, but no scholarships."

"I told you to play sports," Mrs. Jones said. "How many times did I tell you. Pick a sport and get good at it. It's a sure ticket to a scholarship. But instead you sit on your ass here in the living room playing your Xbot."

"But I'm no good at sports," The skinny eighteen year old was far to skinny for most sports. There was no way to get good at any sport always being the last one chosen for a team and reluctantly put where he was least likely to be needed. "Besides it's called an XBOX."

"If you stuck to a sport like you've stuck to those damned video games, you'd have 10 scholarships by now." Mrs. Jones said.

"Maybe I can just go to a community college?" Tracy said.

"And do what exactly?" Mrs. Jones said. "Become a mechanic?"

"I can do college prep."

"What comes after college prep genius? College, and it's college that we can't afford," Mrs. Jones said. "Why couldn't you have been more like your sister?"

"She didn't get a sports scholarship either!" Tracy shouted, throwing down his controller. Shit, he'd been killed. Nothing got under his skin like being compared to his sister who always seemed to catch every break. 

"Oh now look at Mr. Highandmighty," Mrs. Jones said. "Stacy didn't get a sports scholarship. But she does go to college doesn't she? She goes to an expensive college and it's all paid for. How does that happen? Explain that to me Tracy."

"She's lucky I guess," Tracy replied sullenly.

"Lucky he says," Mrs. Jones said. "We make our own luck. Maybe you could use a little of your sister's luck. Why don't you see if she can help you pay for school. Go on. Ask."

Stacy tried to tune the two of them out. They were always arguing. She should be enjoying her summer instead of listening to that damned bickering. Usually she didn't involve herself in these arguments. But this time she did. It just came out. She would have never said those words if she'd known what would happen next.

"It is a shame he isn't a girl," Stacy said. "Jill graduated so my sorority has another full scholarship they are giving out."

"What did you say?" Mrs. Jones said.

Stacy looked at her mother's intense gaze. It was just an offhand silly thing. Nothing to take seriously. But her mother looked very serious and her brother - her brother looked very worried.

"Nothing." Stacy's voice was a whisper.

"No it wasn't nothing," Mrs. Jones said. "It was something. Now, tell me exactly what you said."

"I said," Stacy continued reluctantly. "My sorority will be giving out another full scholarship. But it doesn't matter. It's not like he can apply for it."

"And why is that?" Mrs. Jones said, her voice had a hard quality Stacy never liked to hear.

"Because he's a boy."

Tracy was chuckling, till he looked away from the TV and caught a glimpse of the look in his mother's eyes. The laugh died in his throat.

"It looks like I was wrong about those damned games after all," Mrs. Jones said. "A few sports and he'd be all barrel chested and stocky shoulders. Just look at him. He's as skinny as you Stacy. He's as skinny as any girl."

"But there are records." Stacy said.

"His name is Tracy. Oh don't you worry about records, you leave that to me." Mrs. Jones said. "Now you help your brother go to college. There are no if ands or buts. What exactly does he need?"

"No!" Tracy said. "No way. No how! I will not do it! Never in a million years." The newly diploma decorated high school graduate ran from the room and slammed his door. No. Never in a million fucking years. His mother thought she controlled him. But she didn't. He was an adult now. He made his own decisions.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Two months later...

Tracy stared up at the large house. It was much larger than he'd ever reckoned. Phi Beta Phi symbols were on the front. His first time at college, he would have had butterflies in his stomach in the best condition. But these weren't typical conditions and Tracy was tee-totally terrified. His knees felt like jello.

"You better not ruin this for me," Stacy said under her breath while keeping a smile plastered on her lips. "I mean it Tracy. I will not only fucking kill you, I will rip off your head and shit down your throat. Do you understand me?"

"I don't want to be here," Tracy whispered back urgently. "And I wouldn't. Not like this. Not if you had kept your big mouth shut."

Though the brother and sister sounded angry, they were both equally terrified. They both had so much to lose and so much depended on not getting caught in this charade.

Tracy caught his sister looking him up and down. Making sure everything was as planned. Tracy dared to look down to be certain as well. God - a skirt, a turtleneck sweater, hose, boots, a wonderbra , panties. He'd never been so humiliated.

"Hey Stacy!" A young blond said. "This must be your cousin? Welcome to Phi Beta Phi."

That was the moment. Their last chance to end the charade. However, with their mother looking on expectantly from the car, Stacy and Tracy hugged the bubbly blond in greeting and went into the house, their belongings stuffed in a few suitcases and small boxes.

++++++++++++++

They were both certain Tracy would be exposed as a boy pretending to be a girl. But somehow he managed to pull it off. Making it through hazing, showers, sharing a room with a girl. There were only two things that still managed to cause the young boy concern.

Making friends. It was hard enough to make friends in ideal situations. But now, now it was nearly impossible. For one, making friends with boys was near impossible. Tracy tried, but he soon found out the hard way that boys were all interested in something else other than hanging out together and playing video games. They were interested in girls. Even girls that weren't interested in them. 

This left girls. But that was equally awkward. They wanted to talk about boys, makeup, and stuff that Tracy had no idea about. 

The other problem? Mixers. God, how Tracy hated them. Every so often the sorority would invite a over for dinner or they would go over to a fraternity. There the young boy had to endure the unwanted attention from other boys.

Usually he made himself scarce and blended in with the surroundings. It was there blending in, he began to make friends with Maggie.

Maggie had dark hair and equally dark eyes. She always put just enough effort into the sorority, but she was never bubbly like the other girls. She was snarky. And the best part, she didn't talk about boys like the other girls. She talked about them, but in a way Tracy could identify with.

"God these dweebs are so lame," Maggie said. "How much longer can this fucking mixer possibly last?"

"An eternity," Tracy said. 

"Can I get you girls a drink?" a boy asked.

"Sorry, I don't drink," Tracy said.

"My shrink says if I mix alcohol with my medication," Maggie said. "It makes me homicidal."

The boy laughed, but Maggie didn't.

"I'm serious." she said, her gaze dead - scary.

The boy's gulped down his drink, shook his head and walked away to find greener fields to plow.

"Did you see him?" Maggie said. "A popped collar? Who the fuck wears a popped collar these days?"

"I think you made him pee himself," Tracy snickered. "Just a little."

Maggie's hand reached around to the small of Tracy's back and she pulled him close to her. So close he prayed his panty shaper was doing its job. He didn't protest. He knew this was something girls did with one another.

"I did, didn't I? Boys are so stupid." Maggie giggled in Tracy's ear. God, to be that close to the girl made her loins ache. Oh how she wanted her. She'd dropped hints and the girl seemed oblivious to boys. She'd caught the cute blond looking at her out the corner of her eye, but had as of yet been unable to seal the deal.

"Your lipstick is a little smudged," the buxom raven haired girl, tidied up Tracy's lipstick with her finger. It was only a matter of time till she seduced this innocent freshman.

++++++++++++++++++

It was a friendship that Tracy was desperate for. A friendship that didn't involve talk of boyfriends and boys or clothes he didn't want and couldn't afford.

A friendship his sister disapproved of. 

"I don't want you hanging with that girl." Stacy told her brother.

"Who?"

"You know who," Stacy said. "Maggie."

"But..but we are rooming together now."

"I heard. Next time you better ask before you switch rooms." Stacy said. "Break it off. This can't lead to anything good."

"But we are just friends."

"She's an odd one," Stacy said. "I get a weird vibe Tracy."

"She's nice," Tracy answered. "She's a lot nicer and more normal than 95% of the other girls around here. All they talk about are frat boys and sex."

"That's just what I said. She's weird," Stacy said. "But have it your way 'sis'. You are always so 'smart'."

+++++++++++++++=

Of course Tracy ignored his sister's advice. How could she expect him to break it off with his new best friend? The only friend he had at this lonely - lonely school. She had no idea the kind of relationship the two girls shared. Or maybe she did and it was jealousy talking.

Even now, Tracy sat on the bed talking to Maggie, painting her toenails while they talked. And speaking of talking, the two could talk for hours on end.

"God, Tracy, you should have seen the test results for sociology. One quarter of the class failed. The professor scheduled the test for a Friday. Everyone was out partying the night before, the class reeked of it. I heard the girls behind me talking yesterday. She said she sucked the professor off to change her grade. These kids are so slack. I don't know why I'm here. But if I wasn't here, I wouldn't have met you. I can't imagine going to school anywhere else but with you."

Tracy blinked back the tears in his eyes. He'd never been this close to anyone. He was her best friend and she was his. She was more than that really. He had feeling for her. He wanted so much to tell her the truth, but he couldn't. And it hurt. It hurt to hold back something so important from his best friend.

Maggie wiggled her toes. "Pretty. Blow them dry for me."

Tracy felt his cheeks color. He'd already done her nails and blown them dry. It felt a bit odd to blow on her feet. It felt ...unmasculine. Yet she wriggled them so cutely. She sat there on a pile of pillows, wearing an old form fitting t-shirt that hugged her buxom curves, her nipples poking through invitingly. Her long pale legs extended and glimpses of her panties were causing him uncomfortable stirrings down below.

He should have said no. But he couldn't.

Then doing it. Blowing on them gently while she wriggled them. The stirring in his groin grew almost painful. There was no danger in being exposed. He was securely tucked. Yet, certain natural occurrences that caused pleasure in most boys, caused just the opposite when nature wasn't allowed to take its course of action.

Maggie licked her lips. Her cheeks grew warm. God how she wanted this girl. She felt certain Tracy was into girls too, but as yet the seduction wasn't complete. There was an innocence - a naivety that attracted her but at the same time kept her prey from her.

"Now let me do you," she said, she dug into Tracey's drawer and returned with some pink polish and started with his fingernails.

"It's amazing that we are best friends," Maggie said. "When we are such opposites in so many ways. I like dark colors, you like pretty pinks. I like jeans and t-shirts, and you like frills and lace. The only thing we really have in common is that we don't fit in with the other girls. I know why I don't fit in - but I can't see why you don't."

Tracy wanted to tell Maggie that he didn't like pink or lace. He had to wear them. He had to go the extra mile to appear feminine, while Maggie could do it with practiced ease.

"I guess I'm just introverted." Tracy said with a shrug. Lying but what else could he do? Truth was not an option for him no matter how much he wished it were.

"I feel like I'm holding you back," Maggie said. "I have a bad attitude about things. I see the glass as half empty. You see it as half full, I know you do. I don't want my apathy and pessimism to rub off on you. As a matter of fact, I never imagined I'd get accepted here in the first place. I rushed as a joke. I can guess though, somehow they found out I have money."

"And I have none. That's why I joined. I needed the scholarship." Tracy said, at least being able to speak the truth about this one matter.

"Well, you can make the most of it," Maggie said, turning the conversation to a different subject, trying to corner the girl that was alluding her thus far. "You should talk to one of those frat boys at the next party. Don't hang out with me- I think I scare them though I can't imagine why."

"I don't like those frat boys," Tracy said, thinking I don't like boys period, but being unable to say so.

"Who did you date in high school?" Maggie said, moving on to Tracy's toenails. "What was he like?"

Tracy blushed. He had made up lies for the other girls, but for some reason he couldn't lie about it to Maggie right now. Not the way he felt about her.

"You didn't have a boyfriend in high school did you?" Maggie exclaimed. "Oh I've got the dirt on you now. Now I see why you are so shy. You've never done it before, have you?"

"Well have you?" Tracy said, blushing quite furiously now, trying to turn the conversation back to Maggie. It was conversations like this that made him avoid girls in the first place, and he hated talking about them with Maggie even more.

"Yes I have, but we are talking about you." Maggie said. "And don't try to change the subject. So tell me, have you even kissed?"

Tracy nodded.

"I mean really kissed you sexy little virgin."

Tracy felt his cheeks grow even warmer. No he hadn't. What's more, Maggie called him sexy. It stirred feeling inside him.

"There's nothing to it," Maggie said. This innocent little girl was soon going to be putty in her hands. She should have been more direct ages ago instead of all the teasing and innuendo. "Nothing to be afraid of. See, when you kiss, he'll come in close, and you just kind of keep your distance. If he goes too fast, why you just feel free to dodge out of the way. Here I'll show you."

Suddenly the room grew hotter and Maggie went in for a kiss. Despite the doubts that assailed him, Tracy didn't draw away. Not even when Maggie's tongue entered his mouth. He sighed. It was the moment he'd waited all along.

Maggie withdrew and frowned, on one hand she was excited, she'd kissed and the object of her affection went along. She wanted more, so she continued her lessons.

"You aren't supposed to let them go in there like that," Maggie said. "It's like I told you. If they go in quickly, you dodge out of the way. Otherwise, they will think you are easy. You don't want boys to think you are easy do you?"

"No," Tracy breathed, his cheeks blooming a bright red. He'd reacted to Maggie's kiss and now she thought he'd kiss any old boy the same way he kissed her. Tracy felt a hollowness in his heart. He'd wanted her kiss, not some training lesson. But what could he expect? He was trapped here, pretending to be a girl. A girl who thought of him as a friend and nothing more. 

"Let's try again," Maggie said, going in quickly again, but this time Tracy kept the brunette away with a hand on her shoulder, already feeling spurned from the first one.

"Keep your hands down," Maggie warned. "Your nails aren't dry. I've had this night shirt for years and I think you've ruined it."

"Sorry," Tracy felt his cheeks grow warm.

"It's okay," Maggie said. "It's old anyway, but it has sentimental value. I couldn't bear to part with it even with a little polish. Reach your arms up high to keep from ruining your nails so we can try again. Just use you body and your lips to control the pace. Let's try again."

Use his body? How? Maggie rushed in for another kiss, her lips parted and tongue extending. Oh how he longed to feel that kiss once more. His body yearned for it. Ached. But he didn't want Maggie to think he was some kind of loose girl, so he leaned away from the kiss, keeping just out of reach. Feeling her hot breath on his face. Her kisses on his neck. Trying to work her way up to his lips. Her fingers running through his hair, gently touching his body. The feelings were driving him crazy.

"That's much better," Maggie said, less than an inch from his lips, her loins dancing with heat. She was quickly soaking her panties and she prayed Tracy didn't suspect. The sexy little blonde was squirming so delightfully, yet subserviently obeying Maggie's every instruction. The sense off power was quite a rush. "This time I'll come in real slow. Now, it's time for the real thing. Don't give it up so quickly. Make me work for it."

Maggie's tongue darted out, licking Tracy's lip. He could feel her breath. He could almost feel the heat radiating from her skin. His heart hammered in his chest. Her lips brushed against his. Her teeth nibbled his lower lip. Oh how he wanted that kiss, but he held back his urges.

Maggie moved back slightly. She brushed her lips against his once more. Her tongue darted out. And with his mind screaming not to, Tracy met her tongue. Met her kiss for kiss. Met her passion with his own. He was helpless to stop. 

"That was very nice," Maggie's cheeks were as flushed as Tracy's. Her pupils dilated. You are mine she wanted to sing. "You are a quick learner. For a virgin, you are a fast learner. Some day, I'm sure you are going to make some boy very happy, but you have much more to learn first."

Tracy couldn't even form a reply. Even if he could think of something to say, he feared it would be the wrong thing, but he knew that he wasn't going to make some boy happy. He wanted to make Maggie happy.

Maggie went in for another kiss. Starting out gently and furtively as before, but this one growing much more hungry. Biting Tracy's lip. Probing his mouth with her tongue. 

You are mine now. It is time for you to learn the joys of lesbian love, Maggie thought, as she kissed Tracy's neck and moving softly, silently. She had no intention of allowing this shy little beauty to get away.

With Maggie's hot breath in his ear, Tracy was in heaven. But sometimes heaven can be a very dangerous place.

"What the fuck?" Maggie exclaimed.

Oh God! He'd been so caught up, he'd never realized what Maggie was doing with her hand. Slipping it surreptitiously beneath his long t-shirt, and down into his cotton bottoms - even past the tight lycra undergarment that hid his male shape.

"Wait!" Tracy wrestled away from her hand. 

"What the hell?" Maggie was still stunned. Her mind shifted into gear. What she felt, it was impossible, and yet she was certain.

"Please don't tell." Tracy said, and regretted the words instantly. He should have lied. He should have said anything else. "Please-please-please..."

"What is all...what is all this?" Maggie's eyes narrowed in anger. Was it possible? The object of her affection was not what she thought? Was something else entirely? "Some fucking joke? God I should hand you your ass for this."

"No, it - it wasn't like that-let me explain." Tracy fell to his knees and begged harder than he ever had in his life. He explained how he came to be there in the sorority dressed like a girl. How he had fallen helplessly in love with his new roommate.

But Maggie's eyes were hard. They hadn't softened at all. Tracy began to despair that he would be going home...




The Scholarship



"Show it to me." Maggie said. She'd wasted her time pursuing, almost falling for, someone who wasn't a girl. Wasn't what she'd wanted after all this time.

Tracy blushed. He couldn't. He'd wanted nothing more a few minutes ago. But not now. Not like this.

"I"m sure, you will be very popular in jail dressed like that." Maggie said.

Tracy's eyes widened in alarm. Jail? For what?

Maggie answered the question that he never asked. "For pretending to be a girl so you could take advantage of me. And you have taken advantage of me. You've watched me undress all these nights. God, seeing everything I have without my consent. Well, I got news for you , now it's my turn."

Tracy stood. He blushed furiously. He thought quickly, but he couldn't see a way out of his predicament. With trembling hands, he took off his shirt.

"So the bra is stuffed I take it?" Maggie said. Watching Tracy, she could feel her initial anger dissipate. She tried to hold onto it. She wanted to rage. She wanted to punish this little shit who had fooled her. But there was something about him. For one, he was attractive. For another , h was so...obedient. Wrapped around her finger. Seeing him there trembling in a bra and sweats it was hard to believe he was really a boy.

Tracy blushed. "Yes," he admitted.

"Leave it on, but take off those yoga pants."

The blush in Tracy's cheeks went down to his chest. He removed his pants.

"Is it really that small?" Maggie said. To another girl it would have been a put down, but to Maggie it was a compliment. Tracy still looked like a girl to her. He still made her hot. "It's barely a bulge."

Each comment seemed a blow to Tracy's pride. He was terrified. He almost liked, but thought the better of it. For there was more than met the eye.

"I have two pair of panties on." Tracy said. "A regular pair and a special part that ... keeps it hidden."

"Oh I see the lines now. Let me see them."

Tracy took off the ordinary cotton panties, leaving him only in a flesh colored tight thong, specially made to control his bulge.

"Even like this, I still can't believe you are a boy," Maggie said. The girl rummaged through her drawer and tossed him several items. Several small and sheer items.

"Put them on. Now."

Tracy looked through them. What was going on? "I don't understand..."

"There are two ways this can go Tracy," Maggie said. "Speaking of which, is that even your real name or another lie?"

"It's my name.." Tracy answered.

"Good," Maggie said. "We may be able to go from here. Now that I know your secret, I have a choice to make. I have to turn you in...or become your accomplice since you've dragged me into this. So if I'm going to be an accomplice, I need to make sure you won't get caught. Now put them on, or do you want me to turn you over to Gwen. You know she's a criminal justice major, don't you? That should be rich."

"I-I don't want you to turn me in. I just...Tracy wanted to obey, but he was out of his depth in some ways.

"I don't know how all this works." Tracy said, holding up what happened to be a garter belt helplessly.

"You have so much to learn, I don't know if I should even bother," Maggie sighed. "Okay, here let me help. But just this once."

Poor Tracy only had experience with the minimum of girls clothes. He'd never worn stockings that required garters. He'd worn some heels, but nothing like these. How could someone be expected to stand in them, much less have to walk.

"Now let's try kissing again. It's more important now than ever. Before, you were just an inexperienced girl who had all the time in the world to discover this stuff, but now you better learn it quickly or risk being found out," Maggie said, moving close, her mouth slightly open and tongue extended. "Just like we did before, hold your arms up and keep your hands out of the way."

Tracy knew what to do this time. He'd already played this game once before. He played it coy, waiting for her to brush her lips against his.

"We've already done that. This time I want you to kiss me back." Maggie said. "Now kiss me. Suck my tongue. Do it pervert."

The dark haired girl parted her lips and stuck out her tongue. Poor Tracy preferred the other way, this way seemed so - embarrassing. Worse, caught up in this position, instigating the kiss with his arms held over his head, he couldn't help but feel weakened somehow.

Worse, she didn't seem inclined to kiss him. Instinctively, he knew he had to kiss her to pass this test. He tried the things she had tried with him. Light coaxing kisses, dotting Maggie's chin, her ear, even on her unresponsive lips.

Eventually her lips parted. He kissed her passionately. He could feel her respond. Could feel her tongue extend. Tracy did as she bid. Sucking on her tongue. Sucking it into his mouth. He felt a bit of extra wetness in his mouth. Was it Maggie's saliva? He wasn't sure, but he felt that tingly feeling return once more. The warm feeling made his embarrassment a bit more bearable.

"Not bad," Maggie said, licking her lips, then moving close once more. She was hot. No she was more than hot. She was steaming. She had fantasies she was ashamed of. Fantasies that would scare the innocent girl she thought she was pursuing. But fantasies a boy - a perverted boy in hiding - fantasies that could be explored. "Again."

Instead of just letting Tracy suck her tongue, she kissed him passionately. Exploring his mouth with her tongue, nibbling his ear, sucking on his neck.

Tracy felt Maggie's hand slip under his shirt. Up under his bra. Teasing his nipple. He moaned in response. But then her touch grew hard, catching his nipple between forefinger and thumb and giving a cruel twist, and the sucking on his neck grew more forceful, in danger of giving him a hickey and a painful bite.

"Ouch," Tracy admitted, his lean body squirming in Maggie's firm grip arms coming down and attempting to force the girl away.

"That's a nice touch," Maggie said in a low voice. Dominance and submission - this was her fantasy. Boys always tried to be boys, but she wanted someone soft - someone yielding. She'd have it one way or the other. "Boys are tough...a little fake whining will surely make them think you are a girl. Now get those arms back up. I won't tell you again."

"Yes.." Poor Tracy could feel her cold blue eyes boring into him, raising his arms back up over his head. They felt weak and tingly. Worse, she'd taken his cries for fakery, but the truth was, it had hurt. He felt unmanned by that admission, because as Maggie said, "Boys were tough."

Maggie kissed him again. Kissed him however she willed. Her hands roaming over his body. Palming his ass. Her fingers twisting and pulling his tender nipples. He held his breath, tears welling in his bright eyes, not feeling like a boy at all, until finally he was forced to admit his weakness.

"Ouch..that really hurts." He gave a great gasp when she finally released him.

"You are learning quickly. Most boys don't know it, but girls have sensitive nipples. Yes, this may work after all," Maggie said, her nostrils flaring. "It may indeed."

His nipple still smarting, Tracy was so very relieved when she took him by the hand and led him to bed.

"Now it's time for you to learn something else every girl learns at some point in her life" Maggie breathed, taking off her nightshirt.

God she was incredible. Standing there nude and unselfconsciously, she was soft and round and all that he had imagined. She made a mound of pillows on her bed, and sat down, reclining against them. Her legs were spread wide. Her pussy was dark and matted. Not like the girl's from the porn he'd seen, but she still looked attractive to him. His cock ached as it fought against the confines of his shaper.

"Come to the foot of the bed," Maggie said, beckoning him with a crooked finger. You've got me all hot and bothered Tracy. If you are going to pretend to be a girl, you have to learn what happens when a girl has to do what a girl has to do."

"I don't understand," Tracy stammered, face flushed. He thought he did, but he wasn't sure. My God, was it possible. Was he going to..have sex?

"Don't be a stupid," Maggie said. "You can't just tease someone up and leave them hanging. You know what to do. Use your mouth on me. Like I said, you've got me hot. Now take care of it." 

"But I've never," Tracy breathed.

"Sush..just do what I say," Maggie said. "Blow on it first. Make your breath nice and warm. Mmmmmmm....now use your lips. Just the tenderest of kisses. Oh Tracy...that's nice. Do you like it? Do you like making love to my pussy?'

Maggie's fingers ran lovingly through his hair. Her soft moans were music to his ear. Her aroma was thick and musky. It smelled more than he had reckoned. The lips were pink and moist. Like a pink flower. It would be perfect except for the tight pair of shaping panties keeping his manhood tucked and safely out of commission.

"When I ask a question, I expect an answer," Maggie said, giving his ear a sharp twist for emphasis. It came out as an order. So uncharacteristic of the girl he'd come to have such strong feelings for. Or his best friend for that matter. Perhaps she was still upset about his lies. Though certainly she'd come to realize he was just as unwilling as she.

"Yes - I like it." Tracy said after remembering what the question was.

"Am I just a piece of ass to you?" Maggie's tone grew hard. "Am I you little pervert?"

"No." Ouch. Again she twisted his ear. Tracy began to feel a tremble of nervousness.

"When I ask a question, don't just answer yes or no like I'm some kind of piece of ass you can lie to to get into bed" Maggie said. "I want a little endearment. A yes love or no love would be nice, considering all I'm risking helping you carry on this charade. Do I make myself clear?"

If Tracy was unsure of what he'd gotten himself into before, he was nearly terrified now. However, there was little he could do given he already precarious position. Little he could do but utter a soft and submissive, "Yes love." It was a phrase he'd come to know quite well.

"Oh yeah baby that sounds nice," Maggie moaned breathlessly, pulling his face in tight. "Oh fuck yeah. Say that one more time." 

"Ouch..yes..love..," Tracy moaned. It was actually growing a bit uncomfortable. She pulled his hair and he discovered her thick thighs were incredibly strong. It was a little scary.

"Mmmm- you like that baby? Then get in there. Use that tongue on me. Use your lips-your nose... make love to me. Oh God, I love it. Do you love it baby?" Maggie breathed. "Answer me."

"Mmmphhh-yes love..." Tracy groaned. It was hard to hear. It was hard to breath. His lips ached. His neck hurt. He was a bit scared.

"I like that too. Oh sweetie, you are going to make me cum. You are going to make me cum so hard. For someone so inexperience, you give great head."

Tracy's cheeks colored. He didn't want to give great head. It sounded like something a girl would do, not a boy. Yet, he had no choice but to continue his oral affections.

Maggie hips pumped faster, grabbing Tracy's ears she pulled hard. Working herself on his mouth. Oh yeah. Oh fuck yeah!

"Owww- I mean -mmmm..more gently please love," Tracy gasped.

"Ahhh..fuck I'm coming," Maggie moaned, oblivious to his protestations, a wave a pleasure cascading through her loins. Completely soaking Tracy's cute face with her nectar. "Oh God, I'm coming."

When Maggie's lust was quited, she tugged Tracy up from the foot of the bed. Tracy loved it, loved the tender kisses his lover bestowed on him. Loved the feel of their naked sweaty bodies intertwined together. Love the little I love you's she sighed.

However, he didn't love the swollen ache in his trapped balls or the heels that were still strapped to his feet. He'd love nothing more than a quick session of masturbation and to get those damned heels off his feet, but Maggie was snoring so cutely, and for the life of him, he couldn't wake her up.

It wasn't how he had imagined his first time with a girl. Sticky faced, aching tongue and bruised lips weren't supposed to be his reminders, but then again, he'd never imagined himself with such an incredibly beautiful girl to begin with. A girl that wasn't just attractive, but attractive and funny in a quirky sort of way. 

For such a girl, he was willing to compromise. At least a bit. ++++++++++++++++++++++

"Mmmmmmm....I just don't know what to do with you," Maggie purred, as she idly twirled her fingers through a lock of Tracy's blond hair-that was merely blond before but now had spectacular highlights. "On one hand I feel so guilty keeping up this act of yours."

'Not too guilty to get eaten by me,' thought Tracy, as his tired tongue glided up and down Maggie's wet slit for what felt like the thousandth time. It wasn't just his tongue, his lips were bruised and his knees ached from kneeling on the floor so long.

"Oh yeah," Maggie swooned, her large thighs spreading wider from her leisurely pose in her comfortable chair. "Just like that. Just like that. Work that tongue. Faster you little lez. That's the way. Mmmm...I looked it up today, and it is a felony. I'm like guilty of a misdemeanor for just knowing about it. Mmmm..but baby you are my misdeameaner - the more I miss, the meaner I get. Now my clit baby. But gently. You know how I like it."

"Yes love," Tracy said, looking up from between her outstretched thighs, his face drenched in girl juice. He blew on her clit with his warm breath. Warming her up to it. He'd been at this for nearly an hour. At one time, he'd been crazy about the idea of going down on a girl. But now? Now, while it still turned him on, it felt more like work than sex. 

He looked over at the clock. Shit, his class would be starting in a few minutes. He needed to finish Maggie off - not only that, he needed to clean up and get out of his horribly humiliating outfit.

Not just any outfit, it was one of the outfits Maggie bought him as a present. A kinky number for him to dress up in when he made love to her. Well..went down on her. One night he was a sexy nurse. Another night a meter maid. This morning he happened to be ... a schoolgirl.

He wore a short pleated skirt that hugged his hips and flared out ending mid thigh. A form fitting sleeveless sweater. A tight fitted oxford. A striped tie. Two purple thigh high socks. A pair of Mary Janes. Underneath he wore a pushup bra and a pair of boy cut panties. A pair of pigtails completed the outfit.

Tracy fluttered his tongue, just the way Maggie liked it. He kept at it despite the pain as she tugged his pigtails and trembled as she moaned. Finally she was sated. He slowly licked her, bringing her down from her orgasm.

Wiping his face, Tracy quickly stood. "Sorry Love, I hate to run, but I have to get ready for class."

"You're already ready baby," Maggie cooed. "Just wash your face and freshen your makeup."

Tracy looked down nervously. She couldn't be serious. He laughed at her joke.

"Very funny Maggie."

"I'm not laughing." Maggie said. "I bought you that outfit. What's the fucking problem. Are you ashamed or something?"

"No love...." Tracy whispered. He was ashamed. Intensely so. Yet he'd offended Maggie somehow. He sought to mediate the damage. "I - I really like them."

Maggie hugged him close, her hands sliding under his miniskirt and cupping his bottom. "Don't worry, if you mess them up, I'll buy more. I have plenty of money. Don't you want to look nice for me?"

"Yes love.." Tracy stammered. He fumbled with his hair. The humiliation bit hard. "Can I...at least.. put it in a pony tail, love?"

"Baby," Maggie smiled, twirling one of Tracy's pigtails with an index finger. "Just think...all day long I will be imagining you back between my thighs and one of your cute little pigtails in each hand. Just imagine how wet I'll be? Isn't that what you want babe?"

"Yes love," Tracy's knees trembled. He could only imagine what others would think about when they saw him. Did they imagine holding those same pigtails? Having no choice in the matter Tracy went to class. He'd never felt more out of place, more vulnerable. It seemed that everyone was staring at him. Most girls looked at him in disgust and a bit of jealously. Boys looked at him with unrestrained lust. It was the last thing he wanted.. all those boys staring at him, practically undressing him with their eyes. It was the clothes, they practically begged for stares. A skirt that constantly needed to be pulled down, a shirt so tight it was difficult to move, thigh high socks attracting attention to his legs, a padded bra attracting eyes high on his chest, worse, there were fresh hickies on his neck that advertised just what sort of girl he was. Those damned pigtail tickled his neck every time he turned his head, always reminding him of his embarrassment.

It was too much and so very humiliating.

I'm a boy-I'm a boy, he repeated over and over again trying to make the situation more bearable. This is only for a little while. This is only for a little while. He kept his head down and tried his best to ignore the looks. To get through the day without incident. =================

"I creamed my panties when I saw you. You looked so cute, I wanted to eat you up." Maggie said as she grabbed Tracy by his pigtails and pulled him in tightly between her thighs. "I've been craving you all day. But I was slightly disappointed the way you walked, head pointing down at your feet like you were trying to hide. Then I saw your collar all popped up, and you know how I feel about popped collars. They are extremely tacky."

"I'm sorry," Tracy said. "But I had a blemish on my neck." But it wasn't a blemish, his neck was adorned by two hickies and one had a set of teeth imprinted on it.

"Next time, just spruce it up with a bit of makeup."

"I tried," Tracy said. "The makeup rubs off my neck and people can see..."

"Your hickies."

"Yes." Tracy's face flushed red as he felt the stares he'd received today anew.

"What are you so worried about," Maggie said. "It's not as if you are in high school anymore. You are expected to have a bit of fun in college."

That was the most embarrassing aspect of it. He'd seen a few hickies in high school, but not in college. Worse, he'd heard some of the comments from other girls. Saying she'd not learned anything in high school. In the end, she'd flipped up her collar to hide the evidence of the morning makeout session with Maggie.

"And no more popped collars," Maggie said. "I find them distasteful."

"Yes love," Tracy said as he returned to the task at hand and planting a few light kisses on the full mouth of Maggies wet and swollen sex.

"Look. I've got a surprise for you," Maggie smiled. From behind her back she brought out a latex dildo she'd kept hidden.

"What is that for?" Tracy said, a trace of panic was in his voice.

"We are going to have to teach you your way around one of these," Maggie said. "I mean, come on, how long do you think you can pull this off without knowing certain things. I found out in no time. So what will you do if some boy gets too fresh with you on a date? Call the police? We both know that isn't an option. So we have to teach you another way. "

"But I'm not dating..." Tracy stammered. He wasn't dating any boys. He had no intention of dating any boys. He wasn't into that.

"Sushhhh," Maggie placed the dildo between her thighs. Wedged into the groove of her bare sex. "Where are you going to go? Are you going to call for help? Go ahead. What if the police get involved? You know what will happen then. So stop pretending you are so rough and tough. We both know what you will do when it comes down to it. So you might as well learn to do what it takes to not get caught."

"But I won't be alone with boys." Tracy blushed deeper and shook his head, never moving from the spot where he knelt between her thighs. "I'm careful."




The Scholarship



"I know. But you can't be careful all the time." Maggie said. "Now look what you've done to me. You've got me all hot and bothered. You can't expect me to just go home like this. You know how boys are..all that testosterone and the next thing you know they start pawing at you. See, that's how it'll be. It'll either be the easy way or the hard way. So if it comes time for it, which will it be."

Tracy felt a trembling weakness in the pit of his stomach. Is this how it would be? No, he'd never allow himself to be put in such a position. But what if he were? What would he do? Was Maggie right?

"The easy way," Tracy admitted in a whisper.

"I thought so," Maggie smiled knowingly. "Now be a good girl and wrap your fingers around the base of my cock."

It wasn't a cock. It was a vibrator. A toy really. Tracy told himself as he wrapped his fingers around it.

"Is it big?" Maggie asked.

Yes, it felt big. Much bigger around than his cock. Tracy's cheeks blushed even more.

"Then tell me." Maggie ordered.

"It's big," Tracy stammered in a quiet whisper. 

"Don't be scared. I'll be gentle," Maggie cooed. "But some frat boy probably won't be."

Tracy swallowed. He felt a shiver run down his spine. A frat boy. No, he'd never...

"I'm going to turn it on now." Maggie purred, as she flipped it on and positioned the clit tickler on her clit. "Now kiss the tip."

Parading around the campus in a school girl outfit. It had been the most humiliating moment of his life. But this? Kissing the head of what looked very much like a large flesh colored cock in front of the girl he loved, proved even more mortifying than even that.

"Take it in your mouth," Maggie breathed. Goddamn she was hot. In front of her was a cute blond school girl, obediently sucking a dildo that she had wedged against her sex. 

Tracy parted his lips and took in the head. No matter how many times he told himself it was just a toy, the shape, the realistic head and shaft told his body what he was doing. He was sucking cock.

If he had any doubts about it, Maggie removed them.

"Suck it baby, suck that dick, you sexy little cocktease," she crooned. 

He may have had second thoughts. He may have decided enough was enough. But Maggie took matters into her own hands much like any boy would have. With a pigtail in each hand, she fed Tracy the cock. Moving him up and down the shaft. Working him with it. Giving him entirely more of it that he was ready for. Making him cough and gasp. Making him make disgustingly loud noises, when all he wanted was to keep as silent as possible. Slurping. Sucking. Gasping.

Gently. Gently. Tracy wondered at Maggie's promise. Was this gentle? God, if this was, what would hard be? He closed his eyes and tried to endure. 

Finally Maggie had enough. She wasn't content from the vibes from the cock. She wanted Tracy's tongue. She needed that sweet tongue. Now. She pulled the dildo from her crotch and replaced it with Tracy's eager lips. 

"Mmmm...now use your tongue," Maggie ordered, her voice husky with her lust. "Work it. Hard. Stop being a fucking tease."

It was Tracy's cue. He fluttered his tongue up and down Maggie's erect clit. He was just glad he no longer had a cock in his mouth. This was a pussy. A sweet pussy he should be thankful for - and he was so very thankful. It didn't choke. It didn't hurt. He could feel her thighs quiver in response to his eager licks. Her moans were muffled by the thick thighs pressing so hard against his ears. His hair hurt from where she tugged. He licked quickly, till finally she was spent.

"Oh baby, that was something else," Maggie said. "You know, I carry so much guilt for not turning you in sometimes. It's so hard to sleep at night, but it's moments like that when you make it all worthwhile. Now be a good girl and bring me down gently."

"Yes love," Tracy said from between her thick thighs, her words burning his ears. I'm a boy. I'm a boy he repeated, his ears were red from being pressed on so hard, his face was a mess, not just from the slimy juice that covered every square inch, but from the ruddy red color of having held his breath for far too long.

Tracy licked gently, occasionally blowing, occasionally lapping up spent juices. Maggie called it bringing her down, but to Tracy, it felt like cleaning up after the girl and it felt demeaning. Despite his misgivings, he didn't complain. After hearing about her guilt from keeping his secret, it made him painfully aware of just how much he depended on this fickle and strange girl to keep his secret.

And he'd learned a valuable lesson. To make sure he was never alone with a boy. Never. Who knows what could happen?

Maggie lips were turned up in a blissful smile. Tracy took it as an opportunity.

"Love, you were a bit rough with me," Tracy said. "I mean..I like you know...with you. But sometimes you could be a bit more gentle."

"Was I too rough?" Maggie asked. "I'm sorry baby. Sometimes I get carried away. I tell you what, next time you suck Mr. Friendly, I'll be extra gentle. To make it up to you, I'll even buy you something pretty to make up for tonight. How is that?"

"You don't have to buy me anything," Tracy whispered. He didn't want any more presents. Her presents were things for girls, and he was a boy.

"I know, but I want to." Maggie patted Tracy's head. Her mind was made up.

++++++++++++++++++

Tracy stood in front of his closet, his eyes full of dismay. Instead of things getting better over time, they'd only gotten worse.

"Do I have any of my old clothes left?" Tracy asked, finally putting his foot down. His closet had steadily swelled with purchases from Maggie. But the clothes she bought were nothing like his old clothes. Where they had been drab and modest, these were bright and immodest. The colors he could get used to, but the fit, it was as if they molded and displayed him. Damn it, even his sneakers were gone. Replaced by uncomfortable pumps and sandals.

"I may have thrown out the last of them yesterday afternoon," Maggie replied. "They looked a little butch and it isn't just your ass on the line anymore. We are in this together, and I intend that you pull this stunt of yours off - no one and I mean no one, will ever think that you are a boy pretending to be a girl. Besides, I believe a thank you is in order after buying you all those clothes with my own hard earned money."

Hard earned? Your parents left it to you. Me? I have to spend every day looking like a living doll to hopefully get a degree and get a decent job.

But, Tracy wisely bit his tongue. He dared not go there. Instead he took a different tact. "Why can't I wear clothes like you?"

"We've been over this a hundred times," Maggie said, her voice rising in anger. "You are not like me. I'm not a boy. I don't have to worry about being found out. Or jail or prison. But since you want to take a tone with me, I tell you what - once you are done getting dressed, I think you need a bit of a lesson."

"But Maggie," Tracy whined. "I was just asking a question." He just didn't like some of the clothes. They were far too sexy and attracted the wrong kind of attention. He'd give anything if he no longer have to deal with the flirtations and butt grabs from unruly frat boys. However, he had to endure, he had to get by. It was only for awhile. When the year was over, he'd find a scholarship somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"Fine, we will double it then."

"Wait! I wasn't...I mean... I am..it isn't fair." Tracy grew more flustered.

"Triple. You know we can keep at this all day."

"Yes love. Sorry love." Finally Tracy was able to get control of his loose tongue. There was no fighting it. At one time he'd probably been able to get by with it, but now it seemed Maggie seemed to take exception to the most minor tone of rebellion. Tracy quickly dressed, having more important things to worry about than how much leg his mini skirt showed or that his sweater was so tight. No, now he had real problems. He opened his blouse and unhooked the clasp of his push up bra and waited for the worst.

"You know this hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Maggie said, her fingernails brushing Tracy's tender nipples, drawing them to hardness despite his best efforts to the contrary. "But I'm doing this for your own good."

The tears started even before the punishment began. Just the expectation was enough. Tracy bit his lips and held his hands clasped firmly behind his back lest she start over.

Boys are tough he repeated to himself. But he didn't feel tough. It shouldn't hurt so much. All she was doing was pinching and pulling his nipples. Yet it hurt. And the hurt grew. Grew till he couldn't take it.

"Ouch..ouch...please..." Tracy blubbered, red faced, mascara running in rivulets down his cheeks.

"i know it hurts baby," Maggie said. "But it's the only way I can teach you. And what is it that I'm trying to impress upon you?

"That I'm not supposed to be rebellious my love."

Fingers resumed their twisting and tweaking. Tracy resumed fighting the contortions his body wanted to assume in order to get away from those harsh fingers. Yet, he knew if he succumbed to that weakness, she'd start from the beginning.

God Maggie was hot. Having that sexy blond wriggling and crying, yet remaining in position so obediently, had worked up her pussy something fierce. Someone was going to have to do something about it sooner, rather than later.

"And why is that sweetie?" Maggie asked, giving her prisoner another break.

"Because..because," Tracy thought quickly, thinking of the last question she'd asked, but it was difficult due to the aching pain deep in his nipples and the tears falling from his eyes. "Because boys are...rebellious."

"And..." Maggie resumed the harsh twisting and tweaking for several more minutes until Tracy's tender teats were swollen and welted before pausing to let him answer.

"I'm a- a girl..." Tracy blubbered. But only for awhile he reminded himself silently. "A good girl."

"That's right." Maggie said, as she gently stroked the hot welted skin of Tracy's chest. "A boy would never cry from a little nipple play. I thought we were making such progress. Do you need me to enroll you in another yoga or dance class?"

"No love," Tracy assured the demanding girl. He shivered a bit thinking about both activities. They sounded so innocuous at first. But the effects..the yoga alone seemed to make it so easy to stretch in ways that weren't considered masculine at any level. Worse, it seemed his body was becoming leaner and more supple. The dance classes were even worse. It was bad enough that was was made to follow. Worse, was that he had to dance with boys while wearing the daring outfits that now filled his closet.

Worse, dancing with boys and being forced to follow by sense of touch was bad enough. But the fact that some of them were handsy and tried to touch him in inappropriate places made it all so much worse. It made is so very hard for him to remind himself that he was a boy, not when he felt so very different from those college boys he danced with.

"If you don't like the clothes, there's a simple way to remove any doubt about being a girl this Friday. There's a mixer you know," Maggie said. "Maybe it's time you showed off you new oral skills to some hunky frat boy."

"Please Maggie, I don't want some frat boy. I want..I want to wear the clothes. you bought me. I like them. I like them an awful lot. I really do." Tracy begged, kissed the knuckles of Maggie's fingers, sucking a finger into his mouth. He knew what Maggie liked. He had no intention of showing off his new oral skills. He blushed knowing full well that he would be able to succeed, after all the repeated lesson on Maggie's latex toy.

"Did I get you all hot and bothered playing with your titties?" Maggie asked. "Or was it the talk of sucking off some fat asshole frat boy?"

"Playing with my chest," Tracy stammered. God it hurt to even say it, but it was better than the alternative. "And thinking about tasting you."

Tracy went down on the raven-haired girl. Licking and sucking Maggie just the way she liked. Taking her gently to orgasm, and then racing her to an orgasmic finish.

After her orgasm, he took a chance. "I want to ask you something, but I want to make sure you don't think I'm being rebellious."

"So ask." Maggie sighed in pleasure.

"Love I was wondering..if this time...you'd please do something for me?"

He bit his lip and prayed she wouldn't stiffen. God how he needed it, he was so unbelievably horny. He ached. He ached almost all the time. His need was so great that his tongue braved the dull ache of his bottom cheeks. Yet he was having second thoughts. He wanted to make love to her - at the very least for her to take his manhood into her mouth. But the look in her eye made him shiver. What was he willing to accept?

"Would you play with me...down there," Tracy stammered. Not what he truly wanted, but what he was willing to settle for. Such a small thing really. A tiny little favor was all he was requesting.

"Really?" Maggie replied archly. "Is that what you would rather do? Instead of tasting me and making love to me again, you'd rather me tug your little clit?"

Tracy felt he'd gone too far. "No, I'd rather make love to you." He lied.

"Are you sure?" Maggie purred. I guess I don't have to do it if you don't want me to."

"I want to make love to you," Tracy said. "I do. But if you would tug my...clit...I'd like that too." Was it truly that easy? Why hadn't he asked for this long ago? Probably because he was mortified asking to have his clit tugged. He wasn't a girl, he was a boy. He wanted- he wanted to ask her to suck his cock, to let him fuck her. But by now he was willing for just about anything to sooth the aching in his balls.

"Let's take a look at it." Maggie smiled. "Let's see if your clit needs some attention."

It isn't a clit. It's a cock. A dick. But though he thought it, Tracy knew better than to argue. He eagerly let her strip him of the tight support garment that kept his manhood hidden and then the strips of tape that made him resemble a girl and not a boy. It seemed so small after being bunched up so tightly all day.

"It is a cute little clit. The perfect size for a sexy little girl." Maggie giggled, as she waggled the small appendage between her forefinger and thumb. It wasn't a dick. Not a scary large phallus that could change the dynamic of their relationship. No, it nestled neatly between her fingers. It wasn't very manly at all. As a matter of fact, it was almost fragile in appearance. She pulled, testing it's strength.

"Ouch..." Tracy groaned. "Gentle love..."

"Sorry," Maggie said. "I thought it'd be tougher. Do you want to see it?"

No not really, Tracy though as he looked down and saw his tiny cock nestled below a tight triangle of curly down and shapely legs sporting a pair of thigh highs and a pair of heels. He shook his head to get the image out of his brain. He was cute and sexy in a way that even turned him on. He looked like a girl, a girl sporting a small erection. Yet he was a boy- a boy. He would a boy again. Soon. But for now..

Maggie wasn't waiting for an answer. She took him by the ankles and pushed them up by his head. Before he could so much as struggle or complain, she'd grabbed his hips and tugged him to her chest. It was a precarious and vulnerable position. It was a position no self-respected boy should ever find himself in. His legs flopping around in the air. His cock there above, pointing down at his face.

"There, now you can get a good look at it. Just look at the precious little clit. See how plump it's getting," Maggie said. "Maybe it does need some attention. Is that what it needs? A bit of attention? Let me hear you say it, or I might stop."

"It needs some.." Tracy said feeling incredibly stupid.

"What is it?" Maggie said. "What is it called? Be careful."

Be careful. His initial answer was obviously wrong. It wasn't hard to know what she wanted to hear. What would a girl say? But he was a boy. The aching in his balls made it easy to sacrifice a bit of pride.

"My clit. My clit needs attention." Tracy stammered, his voice cracking, his cheeks crimson from his humiliation. "But maybe - maybe we could try a different position love."

But she was jacking him now and playing with his balls. God it felt so good. His dick was getting bigger, and not quite so embarrassingly small. He could feel his come rising. It was the moment that Maggie stopped and left him hanging. Dangling and bobbing far too close to his face.

"I'd love to help. But there is one small problem."

Maggie reached beneath his sweater and tugged on his already sensitive and still aching nipples. Poor Tracy's hips humped in the air as his need was denied so close to his climax.

"Ahhhhhh....what is that...." Tracy moaned.

"Do you think it will make a mess?" Maggie said, cupping his balls and giving a small squeeze.

"Mmmmmpphhh" Tracy bit back a groan. Oh that ached. He'd come to have a case of chronic blue balls over since he'd moved in with Maggie and now they ached enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he knew better than complain. "No..No I don't think so."

"I do," Maggie said, smugly arching an eyebrow. "A big load of cummy cum will raise suspicions when the room is supposedly inhabited by a couple of girls that don't have boyfriends. Do you have a solution? Do you know of some boy you can call to come up here tonight?"

"No, but..ah...we could..." It was so hard to think. In a pair of panties. In a sock. They would have to be washed. A tissue and he could smuggle it to the restroom and flush it away. A boy? No a boy wasn't an option. 

"Oh this cute little clitty is shrinking. I guess we will have to call it a night unless we can think of something quickly. Maybe you can get yourself a boyfriend? Someone to call at times like this. I've seen the way they look at you now. It should be easy. Is that what you want?"

Maggie gave his balls a firmer squeeze.

"Noooo-OHHHH - I love you. I don't want boys. I want you. Only you my love." Tracy gasped, his painted lips forming a round 'O'.

"That's a shame. But, you know sweetie, seeing your mouth in that pretty little "O" has given me an idea" Maggie said as she resumed her tugging. Spitting on his cock and working it up and down in her silky grasp. "It's quite simple. The best hiding place ever. A place where no one can check. You can just swallow the evidence."

Tracy's eyes widened in alarm. His cock, his hard cock bobbed up and down pointing dangerously at his face. At his mouth.

No.

He wouldn't.

He couldn't. Boys didn't swallow. Girls did, and even then only a few. Only a certain sort of girl, at least according to the tales he'd heard from some of the sorority sisters.

But it felt so good. By then the surge of pleasure in his balls had long since won the argument.

"So I guess the question of the hour is..." Maggie teased. "Do you swallow?"

Tracy's mouth formed a tight line. No way. He shook his head. There must be another way.

"We should can stop then," Maggie stopped tugging and resumed massaging Tracy's tight aching balls. "It would just be cruel to continue this anymore."

Tracy's eyes pleaded with her, but the tightness in his jaw subsided. He wasn't a girl- especially not that sort of girl. Yet, his lips parted of their own volition.

"Unless of course you swallow?" Maggie pressed.

Tracy nodded, his cheeks burning with humiliation. This was only for awhile. He only had to endure. 

"I can't hear you?" Maggie said, her eyes bright with power.

"Yes---I- -------swallow." Tracy whimpered. God, his balls ached so much, at this point he'd do anything, say anything. Anything at all.

"Tell me before you come." Maggie ordered.




The Scholarship



"Oh-oh-oh-God-oh here - here it comes," Tracy moaned, his legs dancing in the air. Pleasure surging like never before. Oh God, sweet release was his.

"I told you to tell me before." Maggie stopped jacking and glared down at her roommate.

"Ahhhhh..." Poor Tracy. The surge of pleasure died at his balls and they gave a lone spasm. A dollop of bitter cum landed on the back of his tongue. More please. Please jerk me - jerk my clit. Oh God. She looked at him expectantly. He gave a reluctant swallow. So thick. So bitter. So salty. His stomach threatened to heave, but his lust held him in check.

"Please love," he begged. "I'm so close." 

"I asked you to tell me before you came, but instead you just start spurting away despite what I said." Maggie said. "I think I deserve an apology."

"I'm sorry love," Tracy said. "I'll do better."

Maggie licked Tracy's hairless cock to lube it up and then spit into the crack of his bottom. She resumed jacking, only this time she had another surprise in store. With her other hand, she pushed the tip of a finger into his tight little hole.

"No-oh please-" Tracy grunted, but his need was so great there was no force in his voice, only need.

"No?" Maggie asked. "Or did you mean more?"

No his mind plead. But "More." his body begged. "More oh God, please more." He was so close. So fucking close he was leaking. Dripping drip drop - drip drop into his mouth, forcing him to swallow more of his bitter seed. 

Lightning danced in Maggie's loins. She'd never had anyone in such a precarious position. Never had such control over a person. Oh how she relished it. She pressed her finger home. That mouth and tongue had long since been hers, and now that ass was hers too.

Poor Tracy. It was an unexpected invasion. It was an unwanted invasion. It was - it was like a trigger. Violating him. Making his body feel ...invaded. The normal cycle of pleasure escalating to a peak no longer applied. It was far too late for that. The best he could do was manage to squeak out - "Ugh - coming oh God I'm coming...."

Tracy's eyes rolled back in his head as the wall of pleasure slammed home. His ass spasmed, tightening around the invading finger. He obediently held open his mouth as rope after rope of slimy jizz shot out catching most, but not all - praying that this time, despite the fact that he hadn't followed orders that Maggie would not stop short once again.

"Swallow it baby," Maggie urged. "Swallow all that nasty come."

Tracy obliged. He had no choice. He swallowed and prayed she'd continue. 

Sure enough, this time the dark haired vixen kept up her ministrations. Jacking him till his climax subsided. Afterwards, she captured the stray dollops of cum and deposited them in Tracy's mouth and he swallowed submissively, even those his cheeks burned bright red in humiliation.

Poor Tracy didn't have it in him to blush. But the shame of the act burned inside now that he was sated. He'd been jacked off. He'd been fingered. He'd swallowed come. What must Maggie think of him now?

"What do you say.." Maggie looked down expectantly.

"Thank you?" Tracy whispered as Maggie smiled and kissed him again and again.

"That's my good girl. Now you can show me your appreciation now that it's my turn," Maggie said, scooting back on the bed while propping her back with a pile of pillows. She spread her legs wide at the edge of the bed. 

It was a position Tracy had come to know quite well. Who wouldn't want a pretty girl spread out so wide and welcoming? However, of late he'd come to resent that comfortable position. For while she was reclining on her soft mattress and pillows, Tracy was required to slip off very same bed and down to his knees on the cold hard floor.

Down between her thick outstretched thighs. The scent of her musk so strong, almost an assault on his olfactory senses. Her petals, what once seemed a pretty perfect flower, now seemed a hungry mouth. She was already soaked. He blew his warm breath over her sex and began to lightly kiss her. She let him for awhile, purring while he went down on her, running her fingers through his hair. 

I'm glad you liked it," Maggie said. "It's always fun doing different stuff. Just be sure to remember it when it's my turn for something new."

Tracy shivered, wondering what this perverted girl had in mind. ********************

There were other later times, times when Tracy felt that he was being taken advantage of. Times when he felt the bitter sting of betrayal.

"Drink your smoothie missy," Maggie said. "Or it's time for a little correction."

"No!" Tracy stomped his foot. He wouldn't drink and he wouldn't stand for it "Not until you tell me what's in it."

"Fine," Maggie said. "We'll double it."

"Triple," Tracy raged. "It doesn't matter. I won't do it. Not until you tell me what's in it."

"Fine," Maggie said, her mind running full speed, backing down just this once, but knowing she couldn't let her charge get too full of himself. "Fruit. Yogurt and a few other ingredients."

"How do you explain this!" Tracy pulled up on his sweater and the cups of his padded bra.

"I don't understand what I'm supposed to be looking at."

Tracy looked down. There was nothing there. Wait, he was still trying to figure these things out. He took off the sweater and top and put his arms down and framed his chest with his hands.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Maggie said.

"My nipples," Tracy's face burned a bright red. He had been noticing the swelling for some time now. At first he figured it was due to Maggie's tormenting his nipples. So he'd tried to be extra nice. It was then he realized the swelling didn't go down.

Maggie smiled and her cheeks flushed. "Let me take a look."

She drew close for inspection. She thumbed his tight nipples, relishing how they grew hard. "They are very cute little nipples."

"They are swelling," Tracy said, circling the puffy area with his fingers. "See...that's not normal."

Maggie smiled and took off her shirt and bra. "Look at chest baby," She showed of her heavy breasts. "They are much larger than yours."

"But I'm not.." and though he was extremely angry, Tracy stopped short. There were some things he never said to Maggie, no matter how angry. "I don't have breasts."

"You mean you didn't," Maggie said. "And what would have happened if someone saw your chest? They would know your secret, which is my secret too. So we can't have that, now can we? Besides, you can't wear a bra all the time. What if we go to a beach?"

"But - but," Tracy didn't want breasts. This was just an act so he could go to college and keep out of trouble. But these...there were real and they felt permanent.

"Shhhh....don't they feel nice," Maggie ran her fingers over those tender buds and suckled one for good measure.

"But this is my - my body," Poor Tracy felt his knees go weak. Yes, it did feel nice, but this was his body. His. And this didn't just happen, it had to have been done. The only way he could think of was in those daily smoothies Maggie was intent that he drink.

"You should thank me," Maggie said. "Do you know I had to get a prescription for the pill and then send it off to 4 online pharmacies in order to help you? To make sure that you aren't caught. This isn't just about breasts, how long has it been since you've had to shave that wispy little mustache of yours?"

Several weeks. Oh God, would he be able to grow a mustache again even if he wanted to? He'd noticed other changes. He skin was smoother. His body softer. It was easier to keep his voice at the proper pitch. Yes, these things made it easier to pose as a college coed, but how permanent were these changes. Mmmm- but Dear Lord her hands felt good and his nipples were so sensitive.

"I'm waiting..." Maggie said, pushing him down on the bed, and rolling his panties down his legs. She tugged off the tape that held his manhood hidden between his legs. She licked his cock. She even put the head in her lips. She'd licked it before, but never put it inside her mouth. Never sucked him. Was this what it felt like to make love as a boy? To get a blowjob?

"I'm still waiting..." Maggie said.

"Thank you love." Tracy moaned as Maggie took his cock into her mouth and sucked again. Ahhh heaven. He wished he were harder, however, she didn't seem to mind.

"There is more where that came from, but first drink up," Maggie said and went down on him again.

Tracy picked it up from nightstand. He wanted her to continue. Wanted her to suck him. What was one more? He swallowed it down as Maggie worked two fingers into his asshole.

"Mmmmphhh..." Tracy moaned. "I'm coming. Ah ah- here it comes."

He'd never felt such pleasure. He came right then and there. It felt a little funny. He wasn't quite hard, but he came nonetheless. Came right into her mouth. Ahhh - it was heaven alright.

Maggie got up from the floor and kissed him and it was a bit of a surprise when she returned his sperm to him, but by now he was used to the taste and swallowed it without complaint.

"Now let me see those nipples Missy," Maggie said. "I believe you still owe me for that outburst."

"Please..." Tracy begged. He'd been so certain before. Now his certainty had vanished. Tears welled in his eyes, his boy already knowing what was in store.

"You should have thought of that earlier," Maggie said. "Don't make it worse than it already is."

Tracy looked down at his chest, he couldn't help but regret that he'd given in on drinking the smoothie. He had breasts. He'd assumed the swelling of his nipples was caused by the punishments. Now he knew the truth. Yet knowing what he knew, he had the feeling that after the punishment he was going to get, he'd be reluctant to rebel again.

He was still a boy though, he was sure of it. He had his first blowjob. Yes, and boys received blowjobs. He only had to endure and then he'd be free and no more smoothies. But until then, he wanted more blowjobs.

***************************

In the coming weeks, Tracy felt like he was less and less what made Tracy Tracy. While he was more and more what made him into whatever it was Maggie wanted.

At one time he had to make a supreme conscious effort to keep up with Maggie's many demands. To sway his hips when he walked. To cross his legs, wrapping them around each other when he sat.

He couldn't help but think of the many stares he received on a daily basis. Worse, at the mixers, boys were no longer coming on to Maggie, they were coming on to him. 

He was a boy. He repeated the fact to himself every hour. But though he repeated it, he didn't feel much like a boy. He had a girlfriend, but the truth was...

A boy wouldn't be wearing garters, stockings, heels, and a bustier. A boy wouldn't be on all fours. A boy wouldn't ...ouch...

Tracy tried to wriggle away from Maggie's strong grip. However she had him on his hands and knees. One of her hands firmly held him by the pony tail, they other reached around his waist, going for his crotch.

"See, it isn't so easy," Maggie said. "I thought you said you wouldn't get put in this position."

"You tricked me," Tracy grunted. He most certainly would never let a boy get him like this. On all fours. Naked except for a pair of heels. 

Maggie's cheeks were rosy from the power the rushed through her loins. "What are you going to do now? You know you can't call for help. Do you give up? " She pushed her hips forward.

"Yes," Tracy gasped. She had him.

"Now let go of my wrist and I'll tell you how to handle this situation."

Tracy reluctantly let her go, even though it left him even more in her power.

"Now boys have a one track mind," Maggie said. "All that testosterone leaves them almost brain damaged. So instead of leaving it up to him, give him some suggestions of things to do to keep his hands busy elsewhere other than where your secret will be discovered."

"Where?" Tracy asked.

"I don't know. Think of something. At the very least you could ask him to spank you. No one can resist giving a sexy girl a little spanking."

Tracy tried to think, tried to come up with another use for her hands, but drew a blank.

"Spank me." He stammered.

Maggie smiled. Her hand came down once and then again. Leaving a red hand mark in their wake. Then she paused.

"You can't just sit there like a lump," Maggie said. "Otherwise he's going to get bored and go back to what he was doing. Now try again. And encourage me this time."

Tracy tried to think of another course of action, but still couldn't. The stinging of his bottom made thinking that much harder.

"Spank me," he breathed.

Maggie obliged with two more hard licks. This time harder than before.

Damn it smarted. Worse, Maggie had stopped once again.

"More." Tracy encouraged and received two more blows. God, was her hand made of iron? Worse, the smacks against his flesh were loud. He prayed no one could hear what they were up to.

"Mmmmm...you are turning me on," Tracy managed to force out.

"Good," Maggie encouraged, her voice low from her arousal. "Now you got his hands occupied, but a boy has other things for you to worry about."

Maggie pushed her hips forward. Her old dildo was long gone. Now she sported a strap-on for these training sessions. She ran the shaft up and down her lover's makeshift slit.

"Let me turn around." Tracy said. "I want to suck you love."

"No boy is going to turn down that sweet pussy for a suck job," Maggie said. "Your chance for that ended when you got into this position. Just tell him you are a virgin and are saving yourself for marriage."

"I'm a virgin," Tracy stammered. "I'm saving myself for marriage." Was it really so easy? Why had he struggled with her for so long if this was all he had to do.

Unfortunately, there on his hands and knees, with Maggie there behind him, he had no way to see that she was lubing her strap on cock. No way to know she'd tightened her grip on his hair and held him firmly by the hip. Didn't see her line up the head with his tight crater.

If he did, he'd surely have struggled. He'd at least tightened his rear.

"Uffffff..." Tracy grunted. Dear God, she'd impaled him. She'd stuck it up his rear.

Maggie eyes blazed like lasers. She bit her lip and kept pushing. Kept working that big cock in her lover's tight ass.

"Oh God...Oh God..." Tracy groaned. It was like an immovable object invading his bowels. He tried to fight the invader, but God, it hurt so much.

"I can't," Tracy gasped. "It hurts. It's too big. Please."

"Sush," Maggie crooned. "I won't hurt you baby. I'll be ever so gentle."

She began to slowly withdraw it.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No..." It was hard to talk. When she pulled it out, it seemed to leave a void that took his breath away.

"See..."Maggie slowly reversed coarse, pushing it in again, but only an inch or so, before withdrawing again. She slowly worked him with it. Gaining ground each time. If only a millimeter or so. It didn't matter. She had all night.

God, there was no doubt about it. This was heaven, Maggie assured herself. To think she thought she was cheated when her roommate turned out to be a boy. No, she wasn't cheated. This was a gift. A gift from heaven above.

It wasn't heaven for Tracy. His knees hurt. His hair hurt. His bottom ached.

"If you just squat there like a bump on a log," Maggie said. "He's going to grow impatient. He may get rough."

Maggie's strokes grow longer. Stronger.

Poor Tracy couldn't take a pounding. He thought back to the times he'd pleasured Maggie. What had she done? He gave a gasp. A moan. "Yes..oh yes..," he panted. He arched his back. He moved his body back and forth. Meeting her thrusts with his own. 

"I'm getting close baby," he cried breathlessly in a way that anyone would assume he was getting ready to climax, praying it would be enough for Maggie not to try getting rough with him, it felt like he was being turned inside out as it was. 

Maggie moaned in response. She's known Tracy would enjoy it...once he had the proper encouragement. She rubbed the bridge of her sex on the pad from Mr. Friendly to speed her along. 

But for Tracy, Mr. Friendly wasn't quite so friendly. Mr. Friendly was uncomfortable at best and downright hurt at worst.

Tracy bit his lip, his brow knitting in concentration. Boys were tough. He was a boy. A boy in hiding. God, but it penetrated him. Opened him in a way he didn't think was possible. Worse, the more he tried to fight it, to clench, to resist the invader, the more it hurt.

It grew too much for him to take. His will sapped, he stopped fighting the battle, going down on his elbows as Maggie continued to work him with the phallus. He still managed to meet her thrusts, her body slapping into his own. Then a disturbing thing happened. He discovered, that angled down as he was, when it hit him inside just so, a burst of pleasure could be felt. He could feel himself leaking, though he wasn't coming in the usual sense. 

"Oh God..nggg..ugghh.." Tracy moaned helplessly. What was happening to him? He was definitely leaking. He tried to stop, to tighten his muscles, but that only served to cause him more discomfort as his sphincter tightened too.

"Fuck..baby...that is one sweet ass," Maggie moaned. Casually giving his bottom a spank and a harsh grab of his cheeks. 

"God you are a dirty slut. You love it up the ass. Look at the way you squirm. The way you beg for it." Maggie panted, fuck she was nearly there. She reached around, and made an astonishing discovery.

"You are wet baby," Maggie said. "I can feel it running down your thighs. You like it don't you. You like it up that tight little ass."

Maggie's passions rose, sending lightning through her loins. Grabbing Tracy by the hips, working him, rubbing her clit up and down the pad of the strap on. "Oh take it, take it you sweet bitch take it."

"Oh God..more - more -" Tracy moaned, God he'd come close to orgasm with no stimulation on his cock at all. And though she gave it to him, and though each plunge brought a small burst of pleasure that resembled coming, it wasn't quite the same. He never road over the edge. Just those small maddening bursts over and over again. Making him squirt just a little each time. 

"I love you baby," Maggie collapsed after her orgasm, holding him tight, cuddling him and running her fingers through his hair.

"I love you too,"Tracy did. His heart felt full whenever he heard those words, but now that his endorphins began to ebb, his ass hurt. It really hurt. Would he be able to walk tomorrow?

He knew she was trying her best to help. That this was all in order to help him in case he was involved in some worst case scenario. But there'd never be a worst case scenario, he'd make sure of it. He'd never be around some boy. What's more, he knew a way to make certain of it, and to make certain Maggie needn't worry about any more of these bizarre sexual training sessions.

"That was nice love," Tracy said.

"Anything for you baby," Maggie mumbled, her eyes only half open.

"I've been thinking," Tracy said. "Though no one can find out what I really am...there are other girls on campus that don't date boys. "

"Sweety, those girls are dykes," Maggie said, patting Tracy on the head in pity. Oh this was perfect. It was just what she wanted, but hadn't figured a way to get Tracy to come around to the idea. The fact that he volunteered it made it all the sweeter.

"Yes," Tracy's cheeks were no longer warm. They felt hot. "But we could. You and me. We could tell people that we are lovers. There's nothing wrong with it....and we do love each other...right?"

"Baby of course I love you," Maggie said. "But if you start looking butch, then people are going to suspect."

"I know.." Tracy's voice lowered to a whisper. "but I..I don't have to be butch."




The Scholarship



"Ahhh...you could be the femmy one," Maggie replied. "I guess that will make me butch. I guess I can do that...if you really want to do this." 

"Oh I do love," Tracy said, now moving faster. "Then I wouldn't have to worry about frat boys because I'll be in a relationship...with you."

"It will solve that problem." Maggie said, kissing him deeply. "And it solves another too. I love you and I want everyone to know it."

"Thanks love. I love you too," Tracy sighed. He felt a warm glow. She did love him. And she was a nice girl. If only....if only she wasn't quite so moody. But now things would surely be better. 

++++++++++++++++++

Things did get better in some ways. But in others they were worse. 

Tracy blushed. He'd heard the things Maggie was saying. The worst part was he had no one to blame but himself. It was his suggestion. He'd wanted them to come out. And Maggie was happy to oblige, yet she seemed to want to come out nearly chance she received.

Worse, Maggie didn't just tell others that they were gay. She told them...things...

Tracy's knees grew weak, as he remembered last week when Gwen complimented his bracelet. 

"Thank you.." Tracy replied, already feeling butterflies in his stomach, from merely being questioned about his personal life. Even more nervous since Maggie was there with him.

"A little present for my sweet girl," Maggie interjected. She kissed Tracy on the neck, while Grabbing his ass with her hand, pushing her fingers into the crack of his bottom.

God, not here. Not in front of everyone. Tracy blushed and giggled at the Maggie's forwardness, while trying to capture her wrist to hold her at bay, all without making a scene. It didn't work. He felt her fingertip push his panties into his rear entrance.

He blushed a bright red. "Maggie, not here," he whined in a nervous giggle. God knows, right there in front of Gwen. The one person he couldn't afford to find out his secret, and here was Maggie making a spectacle. He knew she was just as nervous as he, and it was causing her to overcompensate. It helped to know this, but it did little to ease his humiliation.

"I can't help myself baby," Maggie said. "Just like the other night, when I rode that sweet face like a pony. Two whole hours I rode it. I came five times before I was done. I can't help it, but my sweet Tracy brings out the beast in me. But I wanted to make up for it, especially since she was so darling about it. So I bought her that pretty little bauble to make up for it."

"TMI you two," Gwen said.

Tracy could do nothing but swallow the bitter humiliation and wither at the looks his sorority sister's gave him. What could he do, but wiggle around and try to get his panties out of his bottom? He'd told Maggie she embarrassed him sometimes, but she just smiled, patted him on the head, and reminded him that they needed to make sure everyone knew they were a couple.

Worse, was the fact that even when Maggie said nothing, every time he received a new present. The girls would have that knowing look. A look that had at first showed their disapproval that he was using his rich friend. A look that had turned to sympathy now that they thought he was whoring himself out for these little trinkets.

Tracy felt his cheeks warm. There was worse. He thought back to a conversation he'd had today with some of the other girls.

"My boyfriend...he wants to do something weird with me, but I don't know..." This was from Jill, another freshman.

"Let me guess, he wants to put it up your butt." This was from Diana, a senior.

Jill blushed and nodded her head.

And all the sisters were of the same opinion- they didn't do anal. They weren't that sort of girl. They weren't sluts.

"But he's premed," Jill managed to interject.

"Then...maybe..." a few girls admitted.

"Do you...think it will hurt?" Jill asked, her hand rubbing her bottom reflexively.

"Well Tracy?" Diana asked, her eyes shooting over to him like a pair of lasers, despite the fact he'd been silent for the entire conversation or that he was doing his very best to wander off. "Does it?"

"Why..why are you asking me?" Tracy stammered, already blushing in response. The couldn't know. Not unless..

"Don't be coy," Diana said. "Maggie said you liked it up the butt almost as much as you do straight sex."

"Really? My God, I always thought you were so innocent Tracy. Little did I know." Jill beamed. "So it it doesn't hurt? Everyone said it did."

"It hurts a little at first. But not after. Not if your lover knows what they are doing." Tracy lied. "If they know how to do it, it can rock your world."

How else could he answer? Why did Maggie have to gab on about their private business? Didn't she know that he'd have to explain it. He couldn't very well say that he was a boy...and he had to do what Maggie said. No, there was only one other alternative. That the other girls think that he was a kinky little slut. 

The worst part was, he'd figured he wouldn't have to do that anymore. That Maggie's training sessions would come to and end now that they were 'out'. Yet, they hadn't. She'd sodomized him most every other night.

Of course he asked why. He'd thought that would come to an end.

"Baby, you are the femmy girl now," Maggie said. "And I'm the butch. This is what we are supposed to be doing. People will get suspicious if we don't act the part. Besides, that rosy little flush you get after I make love you you and that little extra swing in your hips advertises to everyone that I'm treating you right and for all those mean boys to keep their hands off my pretty baby."

Tracy didn't have an answer. He wished there were some gay girls he could talk to, but he didn't know any. Maybe Maggie was right. Maybe that's what they did. 

Still he had figured that stuff would end. At the very least, it should be fending off all the boys who came onto him. However, it seemed it was worse now than ever before. Now he avoided both girls and boys. That only left Maggie. And left him more and more at the whim of this kinky and capricious girl.

And so he let her. What alternative did he have. Sure, he'd rather she'd sucked him or even masturbated him. But truth be told, he preferred to be ..sodomized to nothing at all.

Though each time she took him in that fashion, he felt less and less like a boy. No matter how many times he repeated to himself that he was.

He talked to Maggie about it of course, in the best way he knew how. After she was sated from sex.

"Maggie," Tracy began, his face still drenched in her desires. He kissed her full lips. "Can we talk my love?"

"Sure baby," Maggie said.

"I know we have to act like...I have to act like the femmy girl, and you have to act.. butch...and I know it isn't easy for you either, but sometimes I think people think I'm taking advantage of you."

What Tracy meant was that they thought he was trading sex for gifts from Maggie. It was embarrassing beyond belief.

"I'm sorry," Maggie said. "Sometimes I think I call the shots too much. That I'm a little overbearing with my presents and stuff. I don't want you to feel that you are taking advantage of my generosity."

Poor Tracy did feel like he had no say. So he lied, but also broke the news gently.

"I don't feel that way," Tracy said. "You are kind and generous. It's just that sometimes I think you get carried away."

"And that's why I want to make it up to you," Maggie said. "From now on, I'll try to do less. I won't just take it on myself. As a matter of fact, I'm going to start giving you an allowance. A bit of spending money. All you have to do is ask."

"Thank you." Tears welled in Tracy's eyes. He didn't know what to say, tonight was turning out to be a most excellent night. He felt like he'd had a real breakthrough with Maggie. ===================

And Maggie was true to her word. She was giving him an allowance. The problem? She only gave him money after sex. Worse, Tracy got the distinct feeling that he was being ...paid for sex. Like some sort of prostitute.

There was more. Hanging out with Maggie took money. Lots of it. There were movies. Shopping. Icecream. Dinners. Lunches. All very expensive. 

He discovered that he wasn't just taking the money. He was...he cringed to think about it. A new voice whispered in the back of his head. Telling him things to do that Maggie would enjoy. Sexual things. All so he could get a little extra money.

This voice helped Tracy come to his next decision. He wanted to get back to where he once was. He wanted to at least feel like a boy again - even if only a boy in hiding. Not some sort of hired prostitute. However, by now he had to admit that he was way out of his league. So he did the only thing he could. He went to see his sister.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Tracy said, as she shut the door to the study room.

"What's with all the secrecy," Stacy asked. "God, and just look at you. Wow. Expensive clothes, expensive hair, expensive heels. I know I told you not to hang around that weirdo, but I was wrong. I know you like her and all, but the stuff she says about you...it makes me ashamed to be related to you."

He didn't know what else to do. Except turn to the only other person around here who could help him. His sister. 

"No...you were right," Tracy said. "She knows everything, so it's not like I can break up with her."

"I won't say I told you so, but I told you so," Stacy said. "Well there's nothing to do but grin and bear it. Can I have your clothes and jewelry when you graduate?" 

"It's not that simple. I'm worried Stacy. She's not just pretending that we are - you know - girl friend and girl friend. She's going over board with it all."

Stacy laughed. "And that's a problem? Clothes? Makeup? Shoes? Hell Trace, can she adopt me?"

"When we are intimate," Tracy tried to blink back the tears that were forming. "She pretends we are both girls."

Stacy laughed again, still not taking him seriously. "Little brother, you've found probably the only girl on campus who wants to be with a girl that's really a boy. I call that lucky."

"I'm lucky...and I love her," Tracy admitted. "I'm sure she loves me too. And though I always get everything I ask for, I always seem to be...losing control. I'm serious Stacy" Tracy said. There was no help for it. He had to show her. He raised up his sweater and bra and showed her his chest. His nipples grew hard in the cold air. "She doesn't just want me to appear to be a girl, Stacy, she is trying to turn me into one for real."

It took a moment for his sister's eyes to make it to his chest. Her attention was first caught by the diamond stud her brother's belly button. Did he have any idea how gay it looked? She started to giggle, but then she saw more. Tan lines. Small strings went over his hips. He'd been wearing a small bikini to get that tan. How did he dare? Then she saw more tan lines. Small triangles over his...breasts. Small - but they were breasts.

She guffawed before she could stop herself. 

"This is serious. I need your help." Tracy burned in humiliation. This was the reason he'd had to turn to his sister for help. The initial small swelling around his nipple had grown. Worse, the his aureoles were larger and more pronounced. His nipples had thickened and grown longer. Even if he..even if he stopped the hormones..even if he took testosterone during the summer, he doubted his nipples would ever return back to normal guy size. 

"Oh my God. How?" Stacy exclaimed, still snickering, but trying hard not to.

"Pills," Tracy blushed a bright red.

"I knew she was a weirdo," Stacy said. "She just had that look. I can always tell."

"What do I do?"

"Leave. Go home. Get away from her."

"She said what I did was fraud. I'm sure she won't just let me go. I've tried. I've told her no. But she says she will turn me in for fraud. It was bad enough at first. But I can't..I can't go to jail with these! Can you imagine what they would to do me?" 

Stacy could. Her cheeks grew hot at the thought. Her brother would be like a new toy passed around the playground. They would fuck him. They'd see those cute little breasts and go crazy. She thought of the stories she'd heard Maggie bragging about. About being licked for hours on end. Using strap on dildos. Having anal sex. She'd always assumed the girl was bragging to compensate for her insecurities over her weight or the fact that everyone thought her boyfriends was a girl. Now, she took those stories for the truth. God...

"This is tough," Stacy said, trying not to stare. Was her brother aware of the feelings he stirred by cupping his small breasts with tears running down his cheeks? "I'll need some time to think about it."

"Hurry," Tracy begged. "I always think she's finished with ..changing me..- but I don't know what she has planned next."

"Hang in there." Stacy said. "I'll think of something."

"Oh thank you sis!" Tracy said, giving his sister a hug. "Please help me. I'm desperate."

Stacy felt a curious thrill in her loins. She couldn't stop herself as she took hold of her brother's sweater.

"What are you doing?" Tracy whispered urgently.

"Let me see them again," Stacy said.

Tracy blushed as he was displayed once again. This time for a much more inquisitive stare. Though his knees grew weak, he even allowed her to touch them, to appraise them, to lift them, to thumb his nipples.

"God, they even get hard like a girl's nipples," Stacy said. "Does that feel..you know..."

His cheeks blushing with humiliation as his nipples hardened, turning thick and balling into little nubs. "Yes.." he admitted. It felt good. 

"When you come home for the summer," Stacy said. "I think boys swimsuits will be out of the question. So will shirts and skins."

"That's not funny." Tracy said. "Seriously. I need help."

"I'll see what I can do."

The girl gave a shiver as Tracy left the room. Her brother's girlfriend was a weirdo that was for sure. Yet, there was something - she'd felt much the same way- a bit excited when her mother ordered her brother to dress up as a girl and go to college in the first place. Like then, part of her wanted to help him get out of this ruse, but the other part, especially when she'd fondled him and he stood so meekly and endured it, that part of her curiously liked it. 

She locked her door and lay face down on her bed, her hand sneaking down to her crotch along with a pillow. She couldn't get the image of her brother out of her head, those nipples, those small breasts, that look of submission. Right now it was all she could think about.

She maoned into her pillow as her climax struck without warning. **************************

Later that week, when Tracy arrived back at his room from class, Maggie was waiting for him wearing a black skirt and a bustier. She sat in a chair with her legs spread wide, her sex visible from beneath her hiked up skirt. She flexed a small crop she held in her hands.

"You've kept me waiting," Maggie said. "For a very long time."

Tracy felt a stirring in his crotch at the sight of raven haired beauty. He put his books down and kissed her.

"You look sexy love," Tracy said.

"So do you," Maggie's nostrils flared as her eyes moved up and down her lover. Her voice hardened and grew louder as she said. "Change into the outfit on your bed. Now."

Tracy knew it was just a game, but he also knew that it wouldn't do to dawdle for the consequences were real for him. He stripped quickly and looked at the outfit laying on the bed. God, there wasn't much too it. White lace garters, white fishnet stockings, a pair of heels suitable for a stripper, thin white panties and a even thinner camisole.

Maggie turned up the music and locked the door while Tracy dressed.

"Who has been a naughty girl?" Maggie asked.

"Me," Tracy replied.

"Model your outfit for me." Maggie demanded.

Tracy blushed, but assumed one of the poses he knew Maggie was fond of. He bent at the waist and rested his weight on his hands while cocking his hips. Biting his lower lip, he looked back at Maggie.

"You sexy bitch," Maggie breathed and pushed her fingers between the cheeks of his bottom. Clutching Tracy tight, she forced him to the bed, and bit his neck.

"Suck my toes," Maggie ordered. God she was wet. Her loins burned as her pretty blond slave dutifully lapped at her toes. Their relationship had changed even more since they had come out as being in a relationship. She was no longer a girl hiding a boy in drag. She was a mistress and he was her slave.

"Good girl. Now get up on the bed and grab the headboard." Maggie ordered.

Tracy knew what happened next, although he never seemed to get over the vulnerability that seemed to possess him each time. He grabbed the head board, allowing Tracy to secure his wrists in place with a pair of fur lined cuffs. Next, his ankles were secured to the footboard. He felt helpless, but at the same time he was eager. When she tied him up, it almost always meant he would get to feel her tight little pussy.

This time was no exception. Maggie slid her panties down her legs into a puddle on the floor. She climbed into bed, mounting his head.

"Get me ready," Maggie whispered.

Tracy was glad to comply. He licked her just the way she liked. She was ready from the first moment -her juices were running down her thighs she was so wet.

After a few minutes Maggie raised up allowing Tracy to take a great gasp of fresh air in. She spread open her moist pink likes with her fingers and displayed herself shamelessly.

"You want some of this pussy?" she asked.

"Oh yes love," Tracy trembled beneath her so great was his need.

"You bad girl.. you know girls don't behave in such a manner," Maggie breathed as she pinched his nipples for good effect. Nipples that were now much more sensitive and tender to such ministrations.

"Please..." Tracy begged. He overcame a million years of evolution and his hips from thrusting and opened his thighs as wide as he was able.

Maggie smiled and climbed back up his body trapping his head beneath her strong thighs. By now, her sex was soaked and dripped like a ripe peach. "Too late baby, you should know better by now, but maybe I'll give you another chance later," she said with a smile.

Tracy licked and sucked, making love to her with his mouth until her body trembled in orgasm. Sometimes Tracy would feel bitter and jealous after such an orgasm, since he was more often than not deprived of such bliss. But he knew that tonight, there would probably be many more such orgasms for Maggie and in all likelihood, he'd have one too.

"Mmmm, that was nice," Maggie licked her lips and made her way down to Tracy's body hips once more. The feel of his smooth body felt nice against her sex, especially now that he was covered in a liberal coating of her nectar. Bumping her cunt over his smooth crotch.

Tracy groaned and flexed. The sensation was a bit too much, but his balls hurt they were so full to bursting, the pressing made them hurt even more. Yet he kept silent and endured the teasing. 

It was at the end of Maggie's second climax when there came a soft tapping on the door.

"Who is it?" Maggie asked. Then in a whisper to Tracy,"Goddamnit, could the timing get any worse?" But the timing was perfect. It was 4:00 exactly.

Poor Tracy held perfectly still, lest he somehow give away his vulnerable state.

"It's Stacy," came a voice from outside the door.

"Just a moment," Maggie said.

Tracy's heart pounded. Just great. His sister. His balls ached and here he was trussed up like a Christmas turkey. There was just enough time for Maggie to free him and hopefully he could make himself presentable in time.

Till the unthinkable happened. Maggie didn't untie him, Maggie simply opened the door, pulled his sister into the room, and then locked the door behind her.




The Scholarship Ch. 02



Author's Note: Although I've tried to make this story stand alone as much as possible, I would encourage you to read the first installment of The Scholarship in order to enjoy fully this next chapter of Sarah's story.

*

I was astonished at how fast the first semester seemed to be flying by. Ever since receiving the $5,000 grant from Miranda Steele to pay the first half of my tuition, I was again free to concentrate on my studies and look forward to graduating on time next spring.

I'd even had time to attend the many alumni events to which I was invariably invited by the Dean of Business, who liked to show off some of his more talented (and I'm sure in his mind, attractive) students when graduates and donors were on campus for the many fall activities.

I'll have to admit, I didn't mind being "shown off" for my academic accomplishments, which were considerable during my first three years on campus. Dean's List, honor societies, and all the other things that would look nice on my resume' when I started applying for jobs.

Nor did I mind that the Dean thought I was attractive, physically. I was proud of the way I looked. I made it a point to keep my curly brown hair and makeup just so whenever I went out in public, and as I walked to class each day, I always enjoyed those second glances from the guys that confirmed I indeed looked nice that particular day.

I am only 5-3 and 115 pounds—far from a striking figure. But my outward confidence, big brown eyes, and some nice, firm 34-C boobs, always seem to attract attention. And I try to help things along as much as possible by wearing outfits, whenever possible, that reveal just a hint of cleavage.

Every day since the semester started had been a blur of classes, studying, club meetings, and the hundred other things that make up the life of a busy college student. And on the weekends, football games, alumni activities, and of course, more studying.

I hardly had time to think.

But the nights were a different story. When I finally closed my books and turned out the light in my dorm room, it was then that the memories of Miranda Steele came flooding back, overwhelming me.

Mrs. Steel was the widow of a wealthy benefactor of the university and the woman I'd so brazenly asked for a scholarship when I'd attended a ceremony commemorating the naming of our College of Business building in honor of her late husband. I had been amazed that she agreed to consider my request.

She must have sensed how desperately I needed the money. Sort of like a predator smells fear. And I was afraid—afraid that I would have to drop out of school and work for a year if I couldn't come up with that $10,000. But when I asked her for help, I had no idea how she would take advantage of that desperation, and all the while enjoy it.

Lying in bed each night, my mind just kept flashing back to the "interview" with Mrs. Steele, which was her requirement to grant me the scholarship. How she made me answer these embarrassing questions about my sexual history. How she made me reveal my body to her.

And finally, how she made me fuck myself on the toe of her black leather boot—all the time thoroughly enjoying my utter humiliation!

Yes, I lay awake almost every night replaying that episode in my mind. But I could rationalize that I needed the money so badly. That I needed to stay in school and graduate on time. That I needed my degree to get a good job.

I guess those were all good enough reasons to degrade myself so. To allow her to take advantage of me that way.

But what I could never rationalize—couldn't even understand—was why the whole sordid episode turned me on so much!

And tonight was no different. There I was again. Lying wide awake in my dark room, remembering Miranda Steele--her severe, but pretty face, her piercing eyes, and especially those black leather boots caressing her legs. 

As usual, my stomach started to tingle, and my nipples hardened. My pussy began to drip with the arousal that invariably overtook me. I tried hard to think about other things. But those eyes . . . those boots . . .

As much as I tried to will it otherwise, my hands moved slowly to my breasts and began to massage them outside the white t-shirt I was sleeping in. As I caressed myself, the soft fabric made the sensitive nipples grow more erect still, and I paused to pinch each one hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

The first time I'd pinched myself that way, I thought maybe the pain would snap me out of this state of arousal. Distract me from the feeling that was building between my legs. Allow me to go back to being the good girl I was before Miranda Steele.

But it didn't work that way. In fact, it had the opposite effect. The pain just caused my wetness to spread, to soak my conservative white cotton panties, to make me feel even more like a slut.

No, I couldn't help it. My hand moved down and slipped under my t-shirt and slid slowly across my flat stomach, my fingertips tracing a line from my belly button to that sensitive crescent just below my breast. My fingers caressed the soft skin as my eyes closed and my lips parted.

The other hand lifted my shirt to expose both breasts, and I shivered a little as the cool night air played across my body. Cupping both breasts underneath, I raised them to my mouth and alternated wet licks from one nipple to the other.

The feel of my soft tongue on my sensitive nipples made me gasp with pleasure.

Before lying down, I had closed the blinds, and the room was now pitch black. The almost total absence of light seemed to make my sense of touch even more acute, my nerve endings almost raw. I was vaguely aware of sounds coming from the hallway outside, but after living in a dorm for three years, I had learned to tune out those noises.

Right now, my senses were focused on this incredible craving I felt at my core and on the image of myself kneeling naked and exposed in front of Miranda Steele.

As her eyes bored into me, my right hand traced its way down my flat belly until it reached that growing wet spot where my panties covered my pussy. Through the fabric, I could feel how my labia were already swollen and partially open, and I pressed my clit through the white cotton.

I caressed my lips and pressed the fabric inside me, until I could clearly feel the outline of my wet cunt. And with each movement, Miranda Steel was watching me, peering right into my soul.

"Oh god, Sarah!"

I bolted straight up in bed, grabbing for the sheet to cover myself, suddenly aware that the overhead light had been switched on.

"Oh, Sarah, I'm soooo sorry!" It was my roommate, Marni who had just come back to the room a lot earlier than usual.

"I'm really sorry, I had no idea you'd be asleep so early. Well, I guess you weren't exactly asleep," she added with a giggle.

Keenly aware of the heat radiating from my skin, I knew I was flushed from arousal and embarrassment, and there wasn't much point in making up some lame story about what I'd been doing. Marni knew exactly what I was doing.

I tried to open my mouth to explain . . . apologize . . . something. But no words would come.

"It's okay, Sarah, really. If there's anybody who needs to get herself off more often, it's you." Marni looked me slowly up and down with those blue-grey eyes of hers.

"What do you mean by that?" I stammered, still struggling to cover myself and regain my composure.

"How long's it been since you got laid? I bet you haven't been fucked since you broke up with that prick, Phil, last year." 

She was referring to the only serious boyfriend I'd had in college, or ever, for that matter. We broke up after I caught him with another girl, and I hadn't dated anyone more than once or twice since then.

My silence told Marni she was right about my sex life, or lack thereof.

Of course, that's just the reaction I'd expect from Marni, who by all appearances had an extremely active sex life. And why not? She was one of the most attractive girls on campus—not beautiful in the classic sense. "Cute" would probably be a better description, with her short red hair and a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her chest.

But her wonderful personality and sense of humor, coupled with her voluptuous figure, gave her an appeal that was a little hard to describe. She sort of reminded you of your best friend, but a best friend that you'd also like to fuck.

She attracted men like a magnet, and wasn't the least bit hesitant to tell me when, how and how often she screwed them. I listened to her stories, partly appalled and partly fascinated, but I did admire her relaxed attitude about sex. In that respect, Marni and I were polar opposites.

I'd even heard some rumors that she'd had a couple of girlfriends, too, but she never confided in me about these relationships, if they did, indeed, exist. Actually, I would have enjoyed hearing about that more than her tales about which guy had the biggest cock.

"Turn off the goddamn light!" I snapped, surprising myself with both my language and tone.

It took Marni by surprise, too, and she quickly reached over, flipped the switch and sat down on her bed. The room was in nearly total darkness again, but I could hear that she was beginning to take off her clothes.

As my eyes adjusted, I could barely make out her form there on the bed, which was on the opposite wall, maybe six feet from my own.

I lay silently with the sheet pulled up to my chin, still stinging from the embarrassment of getting caught masturbating. But at the same time, aching with sexual tension. A good orgasm and the release that accompanied it was the only way I could relax enough to get Miranda Steele out of my mind and sleep.

"Sarah?"

"What?"

"Do you still want to get yourself off? It's okay if you do."

I didn't answer, but the idea of doing it, while Marni knew I was doing it, made that familiar tingle return to that spot deep in my belly.

"I've heard you before, you know."

"You have?" My voice sounded a little breathy and hoarse.

"Oh, yeah, I think it's really sexy. It makes me so hot! Sometimes I do it with you."

I guess the darkness makes it easier for people to talk about uncomfortable things. So I confessed to Marni that I'd listened to her, too. And that I'd enjoyed it, too. It seemed that we'd been helping each other get off for quite some time, never admitting it to the other.

"So, how a bout it?" Marni asked. This time, her voice sounded a little strange, too.

"All right, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We don't say anything to each other while we do it, and we don't talk about it after."

"Okay, my lips are sealed!"

But even in the dark, I knew her lips weren't sealed; they were smiling. I couldn't help but smile a little, too, at the sheer naughtiness of what we were about to do.

But I didn't think too much or too long. My body was still on fire, partly from my earlier activity and the thoughts of Miranda Steele, and partly, I had to admit, from the thought of masturbating along with my sexy roommate.

In the silence of our dark room, I could tell that Marni had not wasted any time. I could hear her moving on her bed and could tell the pattern of her breathing had changed. Her breaths were already coming quicker.

I lay back on my own bed and reached quickly inside my panties, my arousal already so great that I could dispense with most of the preliminaries. My middle finger outlined my wet slit, slowly at first, then moving faster. Soon I was dipping my finger inside to capture some of my juices and using the lubrication on my clit, which already was swollen and hard.

Feeling the need for more stimulation, I slid my wet panties down and kicked them off the end of the bed. Then I drew my feet together and toward me, pointing my knees outward. This was absolutely my favorite position, as it opened my lips wide and stretched the skin tight around my clit.

Marni must have found a good position, too, because I could hear her moving rhythmically on the bed. In my mind, I could see her thrusting her fingers into her wet tunnel and raising her hips to meet each thrust.

Then I surprised myself by wishing I could see that beautiful sight, not just with my mind, but with my eyes.

Closing my eyes and holding on to that picture of Marni, I began to match her movements, thrusting two fingers inside my wet tunnel and lifting my hips with each entry. Over and over, we fucked ourselves, our breathing louder and faster—both of us almost panting now.

I could hear the squishing of our fingers moving in and out of our pussies, as the juices ran down over our thighs and cracks. There were little moans of pleasure, but I could no longer tell if they came from me or Marni. Probably, they came from both of us.

The world around us just seemed to stand still as we reveled in these new shared sensations. The sounds of fucking, the smell of sex were heavy in the room.

I heard Marni hiss, "Oh, fuck! Fuuucckkkkk!" And I went over the edge, too, plunging toward a crushing orgasm. 

My spasms gripped my fingers, pulling them further inside and squeezing them tightly—over and over again. I ground the heel of my hand into my clit and held my breath as wave after wave of orgasm washed over me.

When it had finally subsided, my body slowly relaxed and I pulled the sheet over me. The last thing I heard was the sound of Marni's deep, regular breathing as I drifted off to sleep. And this night, for the first time in many weeks, I didn't dream about Miranda Steele.

******

True to her word, Marni never said a thing about what we did that night. I hoped her silence didn't indicate that she regretted it or didn't enjoy the mutual stimulation.

I was certain of one thing—it turned me on tremendously, and I would have loved to do it again . . . and again. But I just couldn't bring myself to admit it to Marni. It was hard enough admitting it to myself.

But it did cause me to start looking at Marni in a different way. She had always been very casual around me as she was dressing and undressing. Even at times dropping her towel when she came back from the shower and standing there nude as she pulled her clothes from the closet.

Before, I would avert my eyes, trying to give her a bit of privacy—a precious commodity in the tight confines of a dorm room. But no more. Ever since that night, I had looked at Marni at every opportunity. Occasionally, she would "catch" me and smile without saying a word.

I especially enjoyed it when she turned her back to me and reached high into the closet to retrieve some article of clothing or another. The muscles of her long, beautiful legs and her firm bottom would tense, and at times I could catch a glimpse of her cute slit.

One or two times I saw her naked from the front and got a great look at her luscious breasts. Mine are nice sized for my small frame. But Marni's were easily D- cups, with prominent dark pink nipples and areola the size of silver dollars.

And I was fascinated by the way she groomed her pussy. She was clean shaven, except for a "landing strip" of auburn hair just atop her mound. That little strip couldn't possibly serve any purpose other than directing traffic right to her clit.

I contrasted Marni's look to my own, which featured a much fuller patch of hair shaped into a neat triangle. I couldn't imagine trimming myself to that degree, or as many girls do now, shaving completely.

And as I pondered Marni's pussy from time to time, I couldn't help but think of the last words Miranda Steele said to me, as I lay in humiliation on the floor of the Dean's conference room.

"Sarah," she coolly inquired, as if she were asking about the weather. "Have you ever fucked another woman?"

I had never even thought of it before that moment. Now I think of it a lot. Miranda somehow knew that I would submit to, even enjoy, the humiliating treatment she gave me that afternoon. Did she also know that I would enjoy being with a woman, as well? 

She seemed to understand things about me that I didn't even know about myself. But the answer to her question was "no," at least up to this point in my life. Now I wondered if there might be a different answer somewhere in my future.

******* As September turned to October and autumn was in the air, I actually enjoyed walking to and from my classes. The mornings were crisp and the trees that dotted the campus were beginning to change colors. It promised to be a beautiful fall at good old Midwestern State University.

I didn't make many of the football games—I was usually too busy studying, determined that my last year at school would be the launching pad for a lucrative career in business. But that was a few months in the future, and now was the time to concentrate of those final few required courses.

I would even have enjoyed climbing the stately steps to the new George P. Steele College of Business Building each day on my way to class, except for the fact that every time I saw that name, it reminded me that soon I would be receiving a call from his widow, instructing me about applying for my second-semester grant.

I actually tried to think of other ways to earn the $5,000, to avoid another "interview" with Miranda Steele. But not only did I come up empty as to any other possibilities, I began to feel a little flutter of anticipation mixed with the dread. I couldn't quite put words to my feelings, but they were definitely conflicted.

My fascination with my roommate, Marni, also continued. She and I had made it almost a nightly routine to climb into bed, turn off the lights, and begin our masturbation ritual. We never spoke a word, either during or after, but we had become so adept at this simultaneous stimulation, that we almost always came at the very same time.

Not many people having regular sex can make that statement!

But even as I yearned to know more about Marni, she seemed less inclined to open herself to me. So I did some things I'm not very proud of. Things I'd never want anyone to know about.

One afternoon when I knew Marni was away from the room for an extended period, I carefully opened her bureau and began to snoop. I was ashamed of myself at the time, but my curiosity overcame my good sense.

Of course, I started with the drawer that held the sexy panties that she would slip into after her showers. The lacy boyshorts, the hipsters, but most of all, the wonderful thongs that hid themselves in her crack and barely covered her prominent mound. They came in a variety of colors, and I tried to contain a shiver as I caressed a little pink thong that I knew was her favorite.

And, of course, the bras. Balconets, plunges, strapless. Most matching the panties. None padded, of course. 36-D. Okay, I looked at the labels. I just had to know.

As I allowed the soft fabrics to caress my hands, I suddenly felt something hard below the last layer of panties. I carefully lifted them up, reached underneath, and pulled out the object that had caught my attention.

When I pulled the thing from the drawer, I almost dropped it when I saw what was in my hand. Even with my limited experience, I realized it was some type of dildo, but not one I was familiar with. The cock was at least 15 inches long and had what appeared to be the head of a penis on each end.

It was crafted from hard rubber and felt smooth to the touch, as I unconsciously ran my hand up and down the shaft. I could grip it and reach my fingers all the way around, but just barely.

It was jet black, and all in all, probably the nastiest thing I'd ever seen in person.

But at the same time, it may have been the most erotic. As I continued to trace my fingers over the hard, cool shaft, I could feel that tingling start at my inner core and begin to radiate outward. I could feel my pussy grow hot and moist.




The Scholarship Ch. 02



That was all the exploring I needed to do for the day! I carefully closed Marni's drawer and laid the giant cock on my bed.

Next came the part I'm really ashamed of. I opened Marni's closet, reached into her dirty clothes basket, and retrieved the panties I knew she'd been wearing last night before she went to bed. We'd had one of our masturbation sessions, and I wanted to see if the panties still held the aroma of her arousal.

I ran my fingers over the delicate yellow thong and noticed the large spot that covered most of the crotch. I held it close to my face and was overcome by the smell that I knew from experience to be Marni's.

Taking the panties in one hand and the cock in the other, I lay on my back with my eyes closed, drinking in all the sensations that were about to overwhelm me. The feel of the hard rubber, the size of the shaft, the texture of the thong, and of course, Marni's sweet smell. I almost passed out from the stimulation!

I quickly stripped off my shorts and jerked the soaking crotch of my panties aside, not even wanting to take time to remove them. I gripped the shaft of the dildo and moved it to my pussy, running it the length of my slit several times, then slightly inside to lubricate the large head.

I slipped a pillow under my bottom for a better angle, and began to slide the huge cock inside. I've always been quite tight, but this time, once the bulging head got past my lips, it seemed that my vagina just opened up and swallowed about eight inches of the black thing.

I held my breath until I felt it hit my cervix, then gasped in a combination of pain and lust. I just lay there for a minute with my eyes closed, gripping the shaft with my inner muscles and enjoying the sensation of being absolutely and completely filled. I closed my eyes and took in Marni's lovely scent as her thong lay on the pillow beside me.

Gripping the shaft in one hand, my other moved to my clit, which was already swollen and erect. I slipped the cock out just a little and coated my fingers with the juices that had slickened it. I used two fingers to make circles around my hard nub, moving a little faster with each one

My mind drifted to thoughts of Marni, trying to imagine her with this huge black dildo parting her lovely pussy lips, wondering if she'd ever used it when we were quietly masturbating in the dark. But I was still puzzled by the two heads. Why not a set of balls at the other end?

And then it hit me! In my mind, I could see a naked Marni joining me on the bed, her pussy wet with milky nectar, lips already swollen and slightly parted. She scissored her legs between mine and moved herself closer, and as she did, she allowed the other end—the other bulging head--to part her lips.

With that vision running through my mind, I took the dildo in both hands and began to shove it roughly in and out, raising my hips to meet each new thrust. Faster and faster, I fucked myself, as my mind pictured the second head disappearing inside my sweet Marni, drawing her to me until our swollen, wet cunts barely touched in the most sensual kiss of my entire life.

And with that, my pussy literally exploded. My spasms shook my whole body, radiating out from my pulsing cunt all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cried out in joy, in pain, in release and locked my thighs together so that wonderful cock could never escape. So I could feel this way forever.

But, of course, I couldn't keep it there forever, and my body finally began to go limp with the exertion, with the most total sexual satisfaction I'd felt to that point in my life. My arms dropped to my sides, leaving the black cock protruding from my wet and tender opening. My cum drained out on the dark shaft and on the pillow under my bottom.

I looked at the thick shaft that impaled me, the dark color in stark contrast to the paleness of my upper thighs. I felt my cum pooling on the pillow. I smelled Marni's panties, still lying near my face.

Slowly, I started pulling the cock from my tender vagina, marveling at how my juices had coated nearly two-thirds of its 15-inch length. I gasped as my lips finally released the large, rounded head. With that nasty thing finally out of me, I could finally enjoy the relaxation brought on by a tremendous orgasm.

But I was still mesmerized by the cock. I hesitantly raised it to my lips and began to lick the imaginary juices where my fantasy told me that Marni had mounted it, where it had slithered into her pussy as her swollen lips moved toward my own.

Finally, I turned the thing around and ran my tongue along the shaft, now coated with my own cum. I tasted myself on the dildo and felt this terrible, erotic mixture of shame and exhilaration.

"Jesus, Sarah," I thought to myself. "What the hell are you doing? Did Miranda Steele turn you into a slut, or were you like this all along?"

Tears began to stream down my cheeks, as I realized I didn't know the answer. Perhaps I would find out when Mrs. Steele summoned me again.

I would have gone deeply to sleep after an orgasm like that, except for the voices outside my door. It was Marni, talking to a girl from down the hall!

I jumped out of bed, grabbed my new black friend and shoved it back to the bottom of Marni's lingerie drawer. I tossed her panties back in the clothes basket and pulled my shorts back on. It was a good thing I hadn't bothered to remove my panties, because I'd never have had time to get them back on! Marni burst through the door just as I sat back down on the bed and tried to wipe the tears from my face.

She smiled as she came in, then looked at me a little more closely. I knew my clothes and hair must have been a total mess, and there was no telling what the expression on my face must have revealed. My cheeks were burning.

She looked around a little more, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath.

"I think someone's been doing something without me," she grinned.

Then she grabbed a book from the top of her desk and was gone again.



The Scholarship Ch. 03



Author's Note: I believe you'll find this story enjoyable on its own. But you'll enjoy it more if you read the two preceding chapters first.

*

I slept at my friend Jessica's that night, lying there in the dark living room of her apartment, tossing and turning on the most uncomfortable futon in existence. But it wasn't the futon that was keeping me awake. It was all the thoughts and feelings that had been stirring inside me ever since this afternoon, when my roommate, Marni, burst into our dorm room and caught me masturbating.

Now, trying to get some sleep, I was this great mass of conflicting emotions. It wasn't so much embarrassment that she had caught me pleasuring myself. We had been doing that "together" for several months, although neither of us acknowledged what we were doing as we lay in the dark almost nightly and got ourselves off.

We never talked about it, but we could each hear the sounds of the other's pleasure—the rustling of the sheets, the soft moans, even the squishy sounds of fingers slipping in and out of our wet pussies. We had even gotten so "in sync" that our orgasms often came almost simultaneously. So getting "caught" masturbating by Marni that afternoon couldn't be why I was too uncomfortable to go home and face her. 

And it wasn't even because I had "borrowed" the two headed dildo from her panty drawer. As free as Marni is sexually, she wouldn't have been embarrassed for me to find out that she owned that magnificent black toy. She probably would have demonstrated it for me if I'd asked, even though she'd always been respectful of my sexual inexperience. 

Marni never acted in a way that would make me uncomfortable, although she didn't hesitate to let me see her naked. Nearly every morning after her shower, as she decided what to wear, she would bend and lean this way and that as she made selections from her closet and dresser. Not that I minded in the least. In fact, I rather enjoyed casting lingering and admiring glances over Marni's wonderful body.

And, as far as I knew, Marni didn't even know I had borrowed her toy that afternoon. I had been able to throw it back into her drawer just before she came charging in. So, while it was embarrassing, the incident shouldn't have made me so uncomfortable that I felt I had to sleep somewhere else.

As I lay there tossing and turning in Jessica's living room, I decided to be totally honest with myself, to confront what was really bothering me. And what I saw scared me to death. I was attracted to Marni. In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say I was lusting after her.

I thought back to how I felt that afternoon as I lay there on my bed, legs spread wide apart, as I thrust that big black cock into my pussy time after time. I wanted Marni to be on the other end of that two headed dildo!

I remembered how that slick, slithering dong slipped between my eager lips, and in my mind's eye, there was Marni, .... Marni, with her firm body, sweating and straining between my legs.

I wanted to see that beautiful pussy of hers open up and swallow the other end with her puffy wet lips. I wanted to see her move closer to me with each thrust of the big toy until our pussies were only inches apart. I wanted to watch the nectar ooze from our cunts and coat the shaft of the big cock until it was impossible to tell where Marni's wetness ended and mine began.

I wanted Marni to shove that cock into me, thrusting it in and out with the dong held in the hard grip of her cunt, ... fucking me while the dong fucked her, ... controlling my body by the movement of her hips. 

I wanted to feel her warm breath in my mouth as our faces pressed close together and we panted in our desire for each other. And finally, and above all, I wanted to feel our labia caress one another and our clits press hard together in that most intimate of kisses.

And I wanted to stay like that forever, our bodies rocking slowly and gently back and forth as our breasts pressed against one another, nipples hard and sensitive. We'd move only just enough to keep ourselves on the brink of orgasm, holding ever so still each time one of us felt those little contractions beginning deep in her belly.

Once the feeling subsided, we'd begin to rock gently once more—rubbing, pressing, caressing, kissing—until we were so close to our climax that even the slightest movement would shove us both over the cliff. We'd even hold our breath, knowing that just the act of exhaling would be more that we could withstand.

And finally, Marni would exhale, blowing her warm breath into my open mouth, and it would hit us. Wave after wave of crashing, pulsing sensations would claim our bodies, our minds. I'd clutch her hips and pull her and that giant cock tight to me as my body celebrated this glorious release. Sweat would glisten on our bodies from the passion, the exertion of our mutual pleasure. Our cunts would rebel against the giant cock, while our contractions tried to force it deeper.

Her teeth would clench with an intense hard look, as if she wanted to dominate me. That's what scared me--the thought that Marni already held me captive.

When our throbbing finally began to subside, we would collapse, weak and spent, our pussies and our eyes still locked together. And we'd lie there in each other's arms, safe, warm and satisfied.

It was that desire for Marni that I couldn't face back in our dorm room and why I was in Jessica's apartment instead. 

All my life I'd been a "good girl," a slave to convention. Even my sex life had been very ordinary up to this point (if you don't count my encounter with Ms. Miranda Steele). I'd slept with only two boys. And, of course, no girls! Where I came from, calling someone a "lesbian" was the most cutting of put-downs. I'd never be one of those. Or so I thought.

But my attraction to Marni, which I had to admit had been slowly developing all semester, was forcing me to confront some of my most fundamental beliefs. And it was uncomfortable. I thought it would just be easier to stay away from her for awhile and try to ignore it.

I realized, though, that I couldn't keep running away from my feelings. I would have to confront them—not necessarily by confessing to Marni how I felt about her—but at least getting my life back to normal and seeing where things went from there. I decided to return to my dorm room—and to Marni—the next day and see what developed.

All of a sudden, the futon got a lot more comfortable, and I drifted off to a dreamless sleep. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jessica woke me next morning as she was clattering around in the kitchen, fixing herself a bite to eat before class. I squinted into the light and tried to focus both my eyes and my mind.

"Hey sleepyhead," she called. "It's about time you rolled out.

"I've made some coffee, and there's a bagel left over from yesterday. Help yourself." And with that Jessica was out the door.

I stumbled around a little as I disengaged myself from the futon. It was my hope never to spend another night with that steely monster, which was covered only by the thinnest of cushions. My restless night had left me drained, and I could tell that my emotions were right on the surface, as a result of my exhaustion and the events of yesterday.

But I was thinking clearly enough to realize that I needed to get to class by 9:30, and it was already a little after eight. My studies still came first, and I was determined not to let my grades fall off, even in my senior year, because I needed a good job when I graduated.

So I threw on my clothes from the night before and raced over to the dorm, not really knowing whether I hoped to run into Marni or hoped to avoid her. I decided that we wouldn't have time to talk this morning, anyway, so I opted for avoidance.

And that's the way it worked out, as I remembered Marni had an early class on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, just about the time I unlocked the door and dashed into our empty room.

I quickly threw off my clothes, slipped on a robe and headed down the hall to the communal bathroom we shared with 17 other girls on our end of the tenth-floor. Fortunately, there were individual shower stalls with curtains to provide a modicum of privacy. Though we often had to wait in the peak morning hours for one of the four showers to open up, I was running late enough today that most everyone was already on their way to class. I actually paused a moment and marveled at how quiet the bathroom was for a change. 

Before Marni and I began our late-night masturbation ritual, I occasionally would slip down to the showers in the evening to relieve some of the day's stress before bedtime. But today, I didn't want it, didn't need it, and didn't have time for it. 

I know I set a record as I showered, threw on my clothes, slipped my dark curly hair under a baseball cap and dashed out the door to my first class. I may not have looked great, but I was on time.

I had four classes during the day, so I didn't take time to go back to the dorm between them, choosing instead to eat lunch in the student union food court and study in the library during my other dead time. It turned out to be a productive day, but I was exhausted as I trudged back to the dorm after my final class.

I was surprised that the room was quiet and dark when I got back about 4:30 that afternoon. Marni usually beat me home on most days. I flipped on the light and looked around the room. And I saw the envelope lying on my pillow. My name was written on the outside in Marni's distinctive combination of cursive and printing.

My hands were shaking as I retrieved the envelope and removed the one-page note. And they shook even more as I began to read.

"Sarah, I noticed this morning that you had obviously gone through my dresser. I am not shocked at all that you would do it, but that it took you so long. To be honest, I went through some of your things soon after we moved in, not necessarily to be nosey, but rather to find out about the stranger that I'd be living with for a year. "

I could feel the redness rising in my cheeks as I continued to read. 

"Please forgive me, as I will forgive you, for snooping through my things, at least. However, next time you fuck yourself with my dildo, please have the courtesy to clean and dry it so my lingerie won't be damp, and smell like sex."

It was, of course, signed by Marni. And I remember thinking how incongruous it was for her to dot the "i" at the end of her name with a little heart in a note like that. I could hardly read the final few lines through the tears that had welled up in my eyes.

So now, not only had my roommate caught me masturbating, she now thinks I'm a pig for not cleaning up after myself! All I needed now was a story about this incident in the campus newspaper and my humiliation would be complete.

It looked as if Jessica's futon and I had a date again tonight, and I dashed out of the room, praying that I wouldn't run into Marni on my way. I took the ten flights of stairs, rather than the elevator, to improve my chances of avoiding her. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Jessica told me when I called her on my cell. "Bobby's in town for a few days and you know you two don't get along."

"I like Bobby just fine," I lied, desperate for a place to sleep, other than my dorm room.

"Well, I'm sorry, but he doesn't like you. He thinks you're a tight-assed bitch." She laughed about it as if she was kidding, but I knew that's what her creepy boyfriend really thought of me.

"Well, fuck Bobby! And fuck you, too," I screamed as I hung up on my former friend.

"I'm not a tight-assed bitch," I thought to myself. "Oh no, I'm a wanton masturbator and a sloppy one at that."

It was after midnight when I finally slunk back to the dorm, praying that Marni would be asleep. Thankfully, she was, and I quietly slipped out of my clothes, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head.

I kept my head covered and pretended to sleep as Marni got ready for class the next morning. When she was gone, I dragged myself out of bed and got ready, too. It was hard to even get up in my present emotional state, but I was determined to keep going.  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next several weeks, Marni and continued this little dance of avoidance. She'd rise early and leave. I'd come home late. It's amazing how you can totally avoid someone and still live with them in a 16x20-foot room.

And there was certainly no masturbating going on at night. The only sounds you could hear in the darkness from time to time were muffled sobs--coming from both sides of the room.

Of course, I spent my days away from the room, going to class, studying, and wondering when I would hear from Miranda Steele about the upcoming "interview" to see if she would renew my scholarship. I had a strange sense of anticipation about that interview, knowing that Miranda would do her best to humiliate me again. And knowing that in some sick, perverted way, I would be turned on by it.

God, I'd turned into a masturbating lesbian masochist!

In preparation for the upcoming interview, I'd been spending a lot of time at the university's new fitness center. I knew that one way or another, Miranda would get me out of my clothes, and I thought I might as well look my best when she saw me. I had to be careful and not think about the possibilities in too much detail, as I would find myself getting extremely aroused.

And with Marni and me no longer enjoying our late-night masturbation ritual, I had no way of relieving the tension. My workouts helped, and I worked even harder this particular day to drive the thoughts of Miranda and her kinky sexual games out of my mind.

The workout room of the rec center had almost a surreal quality about it. There were no windows to give any hint of the time, and the bright fluorescent lights made it always seem like the middle of the day—even though I always worked out late at night. Full length mirrors around three walls provided ample opportunity for us to measure our progress (or lack thereof) toward our ideal weight, shape, or whatever it was all of us were after.

An array of machines and contraptions nearly filled the large room, offering everything from weight and strength training to aerobic cycling. The floor was covered by blue industrial carpeting and had a bit of a "give" to it to put less stress on the knees. I had developed my own routine these past few weeks, knowing which areas of my body I wanted to improve in advance of my "interview" with Miranda.

First I took on the stair-climbing machine, which made my legs and hips burn, but promised to make my already tight little butt even harder. My legs were shaking and my feet felt like lead as I finally finished my reps.

Next, I moved to the incline board and started my crunches, putting a weight behind my head to make the exercise a little more difficult. I loved the way my stomach muscles tightened with each crunch, and I especially loved the new flatness I was noticing in my belly.

I used the weight machine to work on my pecs, wondering how long my 34-C breasts would be firm enough to let me get away with not wearing a bra from time to time. It was late and the workout room was almost deserted, and I ran my hands over both breasts, enjoying their firmness and noticing that my nipples were slightly erect.

By the time I finished 200 reps on the jump rope, my legs were wobbly again and my leotard was drenched with sweat. And there was a dampness in the crotch area that might have been from something else. I always felt sexy and aroused after a good workout.

I picked up my towel and water bottle and headed for the dressing room, where I had left my clothes in one of the lockers near the showers. Since I'd been avoiding the dorm as much as possible, I'd made it a habit of showering here at the rec center before going home late after Marni had already retired.

It was already 11:30, and the building closed at midnight. So there were few people in the workout rooms and no one in the women's locker room when I entered.

As I peeled off my wet leotard, I glanced in the mirror on the wall opposite my locker. I liked what I saw. The exercise was paying off, as my body had hardened noticeably over the past month, and at the age of 21, I was probably near the peak of my physical beauty.

I loved the way my smooth pale skin contrasted with my dark brown hair and eyes. I ran my hands along both cheeks, caressing them softly, before moving my fingers to my full pink lips and tracing their outline.

Just those brief touches on my face caused my nipples to harden noticeably. They were full and erect, the pinkness of the nipples and areola standing out from my two curvy white globes. The instant response of my nipples reminded me how long it had been since Marni and I had climaxed together and how much I missed it. I knew, without even touching, that the dampness between my thighs was not only from the exercise. 

I kept my dark brown bush well trimmed in a neat "v" shape, but even with that, I felt quite hairy compared with Marni's cute "landing strip" that she never seemed to mind showing off around the room. I could see little droplets that had collected on my mound and along my lips from both my exertion and my arousal. And I knew I'd better hit the shower before I looked any further.

Fortunately, the showers in the rec center were also divided into individual stalls, each with an opaque curtain covering the opening. Just inside the curtain was a tile bench where you could set your soap, shampoo and any other necessities. I decided to use the shower on the far end, in order to have as much privacy as possible in a public locker room.

As I closed the curtain behind me, I reached in and turned the shower to the hottest setting. I wanted to fill the area with steam, as I like that feeling of being enveloped in a mist. Everything just feels more intimate. 

I slipped out of the robe that I had worn to the shower and stood there just feeling the hot mist on my body. It wasn't long before little beads of moisture were all over me, especially my breasts. I caressed them a little before I even got into the shower.

Of course, my pussy was already wet from the time I'd spent in front of the mirror. And the fact that I'd been touching myself so intimately in an almost-public place gave me that little extra sensation of naughtiness and risk. 

I've found that when my body feels an urgent need for release, as it did this night, that I rarely make a conscious decision to masturbate. Perhaps I don't want to take responsibility for choosing to do something that most of us have been discouraged from. However, if I just let my mind drift for awhile, allowing that tingling deep in my belly to take me over, my body will make the decision for me.

And somewhere between when I was looking at myself in the mirror and when I pulled off my robe in the shower stall, my body had decided. It was demanding an orgasm, and I intended to comply.

I glanced down at the bench where I had laid out my things and saw my hair brush. I hadn't thought about it before, but it was really perfect for what my body was needing. The bristles were black and stiff and the pink handle was made out of a hard, smooth plastic. The handle was as big around as two of my fingers put together, and about twice as long.

It was just perfect in another respect. So the handle would fit comfortably in the hand, it was sort of curved in the middle, making the end turn up just a little. That makes it easy to grasp when you're brushing your hair. But when held by the bristles and used for what I (no, my body) was planning, it gave the handle that perfect little curve on the end. 

I knew instinctively that the handle would reach right up like two curved fingers to caress my g-spot.




The Scholarship Ch. 03



So, with the brush in hand, my body wet with steam and perspiration, and my pussy wet with excitement and arousal, I stepped under the shower. The hot mist played over my breasts and body as I stood there just taking it all in, feeling the wonderful sensations. I ran both hands over my breasts, stopping at the bottom and lifting each one upward so that the spray fell directly onto my very hard and erect nipples. The sensation was truly wonderful, making that tingle deep in my belly spread downward to my pussy and upward to my breasts. My body was on alert. Something very erotic was about to happen.

I took my bath gel and squirted a generous amount of the cool liquid into the palm of my hand. I don't understand why this soap always feels cool to the touch, even when everything else in the bathroom is hot and steamy, but it does. Rather than rubbing my palms together first, I rubbed the gel directly onto my breasts while it still felt a little cool. The contrast between the cool gel, my warm, wet globes, and the hot water was delicious. The purple liquid made the whole shower smell of lavender.

I massaged the gel into my breasts, my shoulders, my belly, taking my time. I wanted to savor the sensations. With the now-warm soap clinging to my breasts and abdomen, I squirted more into my palm, and this time rubbed my hands together before bending down and applying the soapy liquid to my feet and legs. I moved my hands slowly upward, caressing my legs sensuously, and paying special attention to my inner thighs. I got a little more gel in my hands and applied more to my thighs, rubbing up and down along the insides, and finally allowing my hands to go to my mound.

I rubbed the soap generously into the coarse, dark hair, making it look almost white from the suds clinging to it. As I massaged it in, I took both hands and pressed my labia together, running my hands along that crease on either side, where my legs meet my torso.

All the while, the hot shower was raining down on me, pelting me with its fine spray on my back. Finally, I turned around and let the shower wash the suds from my breasts, belly and mound. My hands lingered at each sensitive spot, as the white bubbles trickled down my legs and into the drain.

With the soap gone, I could feel how wet I had become. I ran one finger along the length of my slit and marveled at my arousal. I slipped one finger inside and it entered me with hardly any resistance. I left that one finger there and brought my other hand to my pussy, lovingly caressing my hood, then using two fingers to make little circles around my emerging clit.

A low moan of pleasure escaped me before I remembered where I was.

The whole collection of sensations just felt so good. The hot spray of the shower. The steamy mist that enveloped me. The scent of lavender, And, of course, the feel of my finger now moving in and out of my tight tunnel while my other hand stroked my clit. My knees were slightly bent by now so I could thrust my hips forward in a lewd fucking motion as I rode my finger.

I reached over to the bench and took the brush in my hand. Ever since using Marni's dildo, I had longed to be filled like that again, and I hoped the brush handle would help recreate that wonderful sensation. My hand trembled just a little as I moved the handle slowly toward my wet opening. I turned it so the curve was pointing in the right direction and slid it slowly inside.

"Mmmmmmmm." Another involuntary cry of pleasure. This time I didn't even consider whether I was alone. My body had taken me over completely. 

I held my breath, literally, as the handle slid inside, again with little resistance. I was so incredibly wet by now. And that little curve on the end slid right up and pressed against my magic spot, as if it was some special tool that had been designed just for that. 

I leaned against the cool wall. The bristles of the bush pressed against my pussy lips and their sharp tips scratching against my thighs. I pressed it deep, my hand gripping the bristles so the entire the handle was available to fill me. I closed my eyes and breathed the heavy-laden steamy air and concentrated on the sensation as I stirred the soft walls of my vagina. Around and around I moved the handle, always returning to linger and press hard against my wonderful little bundle of nerves there near the front of my drenched tunnel. My toes touched the other wall and curled against it as I spread my legs wider and both hands gripped the bristling dildo as I fucked myself.

Slowly, savoring the pleasure, I drew one hand along the center line of my stomach, up over my mound, pausing to fondle the wet curls, teasing over my navel. The hair of my head drooped over my eyes with the steam. My hand fondled the taut muscles of my abdomen, caressing the hard-earned neatness of my compact tummy. Finally, my hand made generous love to my breasts, rolling first one and then the other, then grasping, grasping them together, trying to grip both with one hand, pulling my nipples. 

While below, my eager, neglected cunt swallowed and sucked the handle deep into my body. I glanced out into the locker room past the edge of the curtain, wondering if I was still alone.

By this time, it didn't matter. My body craved release, and nothing could stop it now. I slid my hand from my breasts, down again to my needing cunt, and grasped my hard clit between my index and middle fingers, sort of squeezing it between them. My little pearl was swollen and very sensitive by now. I massaged it to the rhythm of the brush handle slipping in and out of my tunnel--a little faster with each thrust.

As my mind gave way to the intense sensations, I closed my eyes and pictured Marni in the shower with me, her hand gripping the brush, which was by now invading me very vigorously. In my mind, I could see her naked with me, the shower spray pelting her breasts, too, and cascading down over her belly and mound and leaving little droplets in her pubic hair. I saw the pure lust in her face, eyes half-closed and lips slightly parted as she thrust the slick pink handle in and out of me.

It was clear that she was extremely aroused, too, as she plunged her fingers into her own pussy as her other hand fucked me wantonly with the brush. My fingers were now making faster and faster circles on my clit, trying to match the speed of her thrusts.

I paused for just a moment to reach up and grab the hand-held shower massage in my right hand and twisted the setting to pulse. The hot spray began to spurt out in rapid, firm bursts--almost at the same rhythm that my imaginary Marni was using to fuck me with the brush handle.

I directed the bursts of water at my clit, as the brush fucked me harder and faster. My knees bent further and I humped the brush and thrust my clit toward the hard stream. 

Just before my orgasm burst over me, I saw her! Miranda Steele, sitting on that tile bench, those cold eyes of her locked on my beautiful Marni and me. Almost expressionless, she watched us fuck wantonly, as if we were there entirely for her amusement.

I tried to stop, tried to stop that makeshift dildo from invading me. But I couldn't. I was over the edge now, locked in the embrace of the most wrenching orgasm I'd ever experienced. And Miranda Steele was watching, studying me as I went totally out of control.

"Ooooohhhhhhh fuuuuck!" The throbbing, pulsing was so strong, it buckled my knees and I dropped to the wet floor, kneeling on the hard tile as the brush handle continued to fuck me. I released the massager and pressed my hand hard against my clit.

The sensations were amazing! I could feel the contractions in my vaginal walls, my belly and in my rectum as wave after wave swept over me. And as they began to subside a little, to my shock and surprise, I felt a hot yellow stream escape me, washing over my hand and the brush, before it disappeared into the drain.

And, yes, Miranda Steele watched that, too.

I was truly overcome and totally limp as I knelt there in the shower and tried to find the strength to stand. I was also a little scared by the strength of my orgasm. Only one other time had I cum hard enough to cause me to wet myself. Since then, I had always lived in fear that it would happen again, but this time with a partner. I didn't think I could stand the embarrassment of humiliating myself that way in front of someone else.

But, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you view it), I'd never had such an orgasm with anyone else present. But the worry of it always made me hold back just a little during the few times I'd actually had sex.

I opened my heavy eyelids and looked around. My beautiful Marni was gone. And so was Miranda Steele. Of course, they hadn't really been there in the first place, but they both seemed quite real to me during the height of my ecstasy. 

And, God help me, I wished that they had been there. Both Marni and Miranda. Especially Miranda!

When I finally felt as if my legs could support my 115 pounds again, I stood up, turned off the shower and began to dry myself. My breasts were still tender from my state of arousal, and my labia were puffy and swollen from the workout I'd given myself down there. But how I needed the release after depriving myself for so long!

I dressed and made my way across the nearly-deserted campus to my dorm, It was well after midnight, and I knew that Marni would be asleep by now. I wondered if she used my time away from the room to pleasure herself with that giant black dildo. The very thought of it made me tingle a little all over.

As I passed through the dorm lobby, I decided to stop and check my mail. It was then I saw the envelope. It lay innocently enough there in my mailbox. The envelope was made of a cool grey linen paper, with the letters "MS" written in bold gothic script in the upper left corner. My hands trembled as I tore it open.

The stationery matched the envelope and also had the "MS" insignia embossed at the top. The letter was neatly typed and was quite businesslike.

"Dear Ms. Robbins," the letter began. "It is time for your interview to determine whether your scholarship will be renewed for the second semester."

"Yeah, right," I thought to myself. "I bet it'll be some interview."

The letter continued, "Please report to the private aviation hanger at Midway Airport at 4:00 p.m. Friday, November 18. You will be flown to meet Ms. Steele for your interview.

"Ms. Steele has instructed me to advise you not to bring any luggage with you—only your purse. Any necessary clothing or personal care items will be provided upon your arrival."

It was signed, "Rachel Green, personal assistant to Miranda Steele."

Well, the other shoe had finally dropped. The warm glow I was feeling after my wonderful orgasm in the shower had suddenly turned into a cold dread (mixed, regrettably, with a perverse sense of arousal). It was time once again to find out to what depths Miranda Steele would take me in return for my scholarship.

It was also time to find out to what depths I would willingly go.



The Scholarship Ch. 04



Author's Note: This chapter seemed to get longer and longer as I wrote it, so I decided to divide it into two parts. The next part has already been written, and will be submitted immediately after this one. So there won't be the long wait that my patient readers have had to endure until I finally got around to completing this latest installment. Thanks so much to everyone for your understanding and support.

*

Well, the time had finally come—the time when I'd meet Miranda Steele once again and do god-knows-what to cause her to renew my scholarship.

The letter I'd found in my mailbox last night was matter-of-fact. "Please report to the private aviation hanger at Midway Airport at 4:00 p.m. Friday, November 18. You will be flown to meet Ms. Steele for your interview."

Those instructions were followed by some more that made me stop and wonder. "Ms. Steele has instructed me to advise you not to bring any luggage with you, only your purse. Any necessary clothing or personal care items will be provided upon your arrival."

It was clear that Miranda was planning to maintain complete control over me during this upcoming "interview," even to the extent of selecting what clothes I would (or would not) wear during our meeting.

"God, what a manipulative bitch," I thought to myself, even as I felt a little tingle deep in my belly. I wondered how it was possible to feel dread and arousal at the same time. "Oh my god," was all I could think. "Oh . . . my . . . god!"

November 18 was just two days away, so I only had a short time to steel myself and prepare mentally for what was likely to come over the weekend. Actually, I knew that there was really no way to prepare myself because I had no idea what this second interview with Miranda would bring.

Clearly, I was totally unprepared for our first encounter that first week of school when she coerced me into fucking myself on her black leather boots in return for a $10,000 scholarship to pay the tuition for my senior year at Midwestern State University. I was equally unprepared for the arousal and need that the whole experience had created inside me.

I had always been the "good girl," sexually inexperienced, studious. But Miranda had unleashed something inside that scared me and turned me on all at the same time. I'd spent the two months since our first meeting trying to forget about that experience with Miranda. Or at least trying to forget how much I enjoyed it. But, in fact, the more I tried to forget it, the more it lingered on my mind.

So how could I possibly know what to expect at this second interview? My orders to report to the airport undoubtedly meant that Miranda was going to fly me somewhere. I was to bring no clothes or personal items of my own, so she was obviously going to dress and groom me. Once that airplane left the ground on Friday, I would be owned by Miranda Steele until she decided to release me.

And, god help me, I could hardly wait for Friday to get here.

I was eager for Friday to arrive for another reason. I needed to get away. For several weeks now, my roommate, Marni, and I had been studiously avoiding each other, even though we'd continued to live in the same room. And it was getting very uncomfortable.

We'd silently worked out our own system whereby Marni would leave early in the morning, while I pretended still to be asleep. Then I would come back to the room late at night as she pretended to be asleep. We were acting like a couple of silly adolescents, angry with each other and not knowing exactly how to get things between us back to where they should be.

Actually I was more humiliated than angry, humiliated that Marni had discovered that I'd snooped in her panty drawer, found her marvelous black dildo, and used it to fuck myself to one of the best orgasms of my life. What she hadn't discovered was that I had been thinking of her, lusting for her, as I plunged that huge cock in and out of me, imagining it was she who was fucking me.

Unfortunately, when Marni returned to the room unexpectedly just as I had cum, I only had time to quickly toss the toy, which was all slick with my juices, back into her drawer. It wasn't long before she discovered that not only had I snooped in her drawer, I had used this very personal item of hers.

The next day, after she'd realized my indiscretion, she'd left a note on my bed, expressing her disappointment at my behavior. Even though I knew she had every right to be angry, the tone of her note—yes, even the fact that she had written it in the first place—created a wall of embarrassment and anger that still separated us several weeks later.

So, the opportunity to get away from this uncomfortable situation with Marni for a few days was attractive, even if it meant I would be surrendering myself to Miranda Steele once again, a thought that filled me with both fear and anticipation.

*******

I could hardly sleep Thursday night. I lay in bed wondering what the next few days would bring, and it was all that I could do to force myself to feign sleep as Marni got ready for class early Friday morning. I had pulled the covers over my head as usual. But this morning, I had managed to leave a little opening through which I could observe Marni as she went about her morning routine.

As usual, she returned from the communal bathroom down the hall with a towel wrapped around her. And, also as usual, she dropped it almost immediately upon entering the room, revealing the voluptuous body that I had been dreaming about, fantasizing about, ever since I first heard her masturbating in the dark of our dorm room.

Her short auburn hair was wet from the shower, and was still dripping little droplets of water on her shoulders, chest, and back. Looking closely, I could see the beads making their way over her wondrous breasts, which I now knew to be 36-D, after snooping through her lingerie. Her nipples were erect from the cool air playing across them, and her dark pink areolas were about the size of silver dollars.

A few freckles adorned the creamy skin of her chest and played across her nose, giving her that cute, girl-next-door look. But a very beautiful girl-next-door.

Marni was just so lovely and natural as she stood there drying her short hair with the towel, her back turned to me so I could admire her long shapely legs and the sensuous curve of her bottom. I loved the way her muscles tensed and flexed as she first reached her arms up to hold the towel, then reached down to dry the lower part of her body more completely.

As she bent fully over to dry her legs, an involuntary sigh escaped me as I caught a glimpse of her slit from behind. As I lay there on my stomach admiring Marni, I realized that I had unconsciously slipped my right hand underneath me and had begun slowly cupping, then releasing my pussy mound. I could feel the wet spot that was beginning to soak through my cotton panties, and I pressed the fabric into my crease with my middle finger, being careful not to move or make a sound.

Marni was always considerate enough not to turn on the overhead light early in the morning, and she managed to get herself ready by the light of a small lamp on top of her bureau and her lighted makeup mirror. This allowed my side of the room to remain in the shadows, while the light played over her with almost a spotlight effect.

As she turned to face my bed, I could see the little landing strip just above her pubic mound, which she must have trimmed and shaped that morning in the shower. She paused just a moment, running both hands over her breasts, then down below her belly to caress the soft hair that she had spared from the razor.

The thought flashed through my mind that she was "performing" for me, and I could feel the damp spot grow larger under my hand. More fabric was slipping inside me, encouraged by my finger, which was now straining to put the right amount of pressure on my clitoris.

But soon, Marni had turned her back to me again and slipped her beautiful legs into her pink thong and pulled it up until the thin fabric nestled up to her little rosebud and disappeared altogether. By now, my hips were moving almost imperceptibly as I quietly humped my hand.

I began to lose myself in the lovely sensations that had started to flow sensuously through my body, and before I knew it, I heard the door close. I looked around carefully and saw that the room was almost dark again, lit only by the early morning sun trying to filter through the tightly-closed blinds on our single window. Marni was gone.

Alone in the room, I now had a decision to make. Would I go with this state of arousal that Marni had helped build in me and enjoy a badly-needed orgasm? Or would I get out of bed now, while I still had the chance to make it to my first class of the day?

Playing the role of the good girl and dedicated student that I had once thought myself to be, I opted for class. I reluctantly rolled out of bed and prepared to meet the new day. The day that I would see Miranda Steele face to face once again.

*******

I spent a little extra time picking out what I would wear on Friday, knowing that at least part of it would likely be on display. I paid special attention to my lingerie, choosing a light blue lacy bra with natural cups that were cut in a deep vee and barely covered my areolas. I nestled my firm, round breasts into the cups, then slid on the matching thong.

As I stood there admiring myself in the mirror, noticing how erect my nipples were, I thought to myself, "My god, Sarah, you're on your way to be humiliated and very possibly abused later today, and you're dressing up like you're on your way to a fucking party!"

Such was the jumble of emotions I'd been feeling ever since my first "interview" with Miranda Steele. I hated her for dredging up some pretty sick and perverted feelings from deep in my psyche. But, at the same time, I loved the excitement that those dark emotions created. They moved me to my very core and left me wanting—no, craving—to feel them again.

I spent less time with my other clothes, slipping on a tight pair of jeans that molded to my figure and accentuated the rounded bottom that I'd been working so hard to sculpt on the StairMaster. I pulled a wool turtleneck sweater over my head, fluffed my curly hair back out and was almost ready to go. Except for one last thing.

I reached into my closet and pulled out a pair of black leather boots that I'd bought a couple of weeks ago for just this occasion. I couldn't help but smile a little bit as I pulled one on, then the other. The soft leather caressed my calves almost to the knee. I felt taller and more powerful as I stood there and admired the way the three-inch heels made my hips thrust out sensuously.

"Let's see how Miranda likes a little of her own medicine," I thought. Then I grabbed my coat and headed out to my first class.

**********

The day just crawled by, but finally it was 3:30 and I was through for the week, leaving just enough time to make it to the airport by the appointed 4:00 hour. A friend from my last class had agreed to drive me, and my heart was beating noticeably faster as we approached the airport.

Midwestern State University is situated in the City of Springfield, population about 40,000, including the students enrolled on campus. The town is too small to have scheduled airline service, but it does have a nice little airport to accommodate the private jets that fly in and out carrying executives visiting several local manufacturing plants.

I'd been told that the runway could even accommodate larger commercial aircraft, should the need arise, including times when the football team chartered flights to distant road games. But there was certainly not the bustling terminal that was a staple of most big-city airports.

As we pulled along the curved drive in front of the small, almost deserted terminal, I noticed a sign that read "Private Aviation" on the large metal building next door. I instructed my friend to drop me in front, hopped out of the car, and headed for who knows what.

As soon as I walked through the front door, I could see that the large hangar doors at the rear had been opened, providing a good view of the runway beyond. Five or six men were huddled together in a knot, talking in low tones and pointing to the aircraft resting on the taxiway. And it was certainly worth staring at!

It looked like a giant bird of prey resting there on the tarmac. The entire fuselage was painted a glossy black, broken only by the bright chrome bands on the rear of the two jet engines that nestled on either side of the sweeping tail that thrust up from the rear of the aircraft. Looking more closely, I could see four round windows on the side, but the tinting was so dark that it made them almost disappear into the black body.

The graceful wings swept from the front of the plane, almost to the rear, and the tip of each one reached up at a 45-degree angle, giving the sense that the aircraft was very fast, even while sitting quietly on the ground.

Suddenly, I no longer felt so powerful standing there in my new black boots. Leave it to Miranda to intimidate me even with the plane she sent to pick me up!

As the group of men heard the click of my heels on the concrete floor, all eyes turned toward me and stared, as if they were expecting me to do some kind of trick. When it was clear that I had no tricks up my sleeve, one of them broke away from the pack and approached me.

"Are you Sarah Robbins?"

"Yes, I am."

"You must be pretty damned important, girl! We don't get a Gulfstream IV in here once a year. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Thankfully, I didn't have to answer that question, and it's a good thing because I really didn't know who the hell I was at that moment. About that time a young woman strode up to us, took me by the arm, and began leading me toward the airplane.

"Hello, Sarah," she said without breaking stride, "I'm Rachel Green, personal assistant to Ms. Steele."

"Yes, I recognize your name from the letter you sent me."

It didn't surprise me at all that Miranda's personal assistant was very attractive, and Rachel was all that and more. She was several inches taller than my 5-3, probably at least 5-7. She had the graceful, willowy figure of a dancer with pert breasts and beautiful long legs.

Her light brown hair was piled neatly on top of her head, giving her a professional look, but I could imagine how sexy she would be if she wore it in a more relaxed style, to frame her sensuous full lips and large green eyes.

I struggled to keep pace with Rachel's long strides, and soon enough we had crossed the 50 yards from the hangar and stood at the door of the aircraft. It seemed much larger and even more intimidating at close range. Just idling, the low-pitched purring of the two jet engines gave a clear indication of their power.

"I have to make arrangements back at the hangar to pay for our re-fueling," Rachel told me. "Just go on in and sit anywhere you feel comfortable. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

As I climbed the steps leading to the door near the front of the aircraft, my eyes had not adjusted well enough from the bright afternoon sun to allow me to make out much detail inside the dim cabin. To my right was the flight deck, where I assumed one or two pilots were checking the instruments behind a door that had already been pulled shut. To my left was the passenger cabin, which was growing clearer as my eyes began to adjust.

On either side of the center aisle sat a grouping of four seats, two facing forward and two backward. Further back, two couches faced each other across the aisle, apparently providing seating for six more passengers.

"Fourteen seats and it's just Rachel and me," I thought to myself. Suddenly I felt quite alone, and very apprehensive about what lay ahead.

As my eyes adjusted further, I could see that the interior of the cabin was painted a steely grey, with carpeting to match. The chairs and couches were made of burgundy leather. I reached out to feel the high back of one of the chairs and realized someone was sitting in it!

The chair swiveled around to face me. "Hi, Sarah, "a voice said, as blue grey eyes looked at me sheepishly.

"My god, Marni! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

*******

"Sit down, Sarah. We need to talk."

I didn't wait for Marni's invitation, as my knees nearly buckled from the combination of surprise, apprehension and total bewilderment. I held on to the back of a leather seat as I carefully made my way around it and sank into the seat next to Marni.

"All right, one more time. What's going on here?" I demanded.

"I guess I'm going for my scholarship interview, just like you," Marni replied, much more casually than I thought was appropriate under the circumstances.

"You're going to have to do a lot more explaining than that," I shot back. "How do you know Miranda Steele? Or do you even know her at all?"

"Well, I really don't know her, technically," Marni offered lamely. "I sort of know who she is. You've told me a little about her. You know, her dead husband was rich . . . she gave you a big scholarship for your senior year. That kind of thing. Besides, Google is a very useful tool," she smiled.

I still couldn't believe this was happening. I was on my way to being abused and humiliated again by Miranda, and now I had my clueless roommate along for the ride.

"Okay, let's start from the beginning," I told her and settled back in my seat to listen to what I expected would be an incredible story. "And, by the way, I'm glad we're talking again."

"Me, too," said Marni, as she reached over and gave my hand a little squeeze. I really wanted to hold onto her, but about that time Rachel poked her head into the cabin and told us to buckle our seatbelts and prepare for takeoff.

A member of the flight crew came out and secured the cabin door, and Rachel disappeared with him behind the door to the flight deck. In just a few seconds, the whine of the two powerful engines grew louder, and the plane began to taxi.

As the plane made its way slowly toward the end of the runway, Marni and I locked hands. This was my first time on anything besides a commercial flight, and I didn't exactly know what to expect. I could tell by the expression on Marni's face, that she felt the same way. In just a few seconds, we were being pressed hard against the backs of our seats as the plane hurtled down the runway. The engines grew even louder, when suddenly I could feel the big black jet leave the ground.

We were on our way! But where the hell were we going?!

We looked out the tinted window and saw Springfield disappear below us. Then the plane made a sharp bank toward the east and entered a much steeper climb than any I'd experienced on a commercial flight. In only a few minutes, we'd leveled off, and the whine of the engines lessened, as we reached our cruising altitude.

It was then I noticed that Marni and I were still holding hands. It felt really nice to be this close to her again, but I needed to find out what was going on. What was she doing on this flight go god-knows-where to meet Miranda Steele?

I pulled my hand away and looked hard at Marni. "Okay. Let's hear the story . . . from the beginning."

Marni took a deep breath. "A couple of weeks after school started . . . right after you'd told me about this scholarship you'd received . . . I got a telephone call from Miranda Steele. I remembered her name from when you told me about your scholarship. 

"She was really nice, friendly, you know. She told me that she was very interested in making sure that you had a really good senior year."

"Yeah, right," I mumbled under my breath. Of course, I hadn't told Marni, or anyone else, what I had to do to get Miranda's scholarship. So she could only go by what Miranda told her.




The Scholarship Ch. 04



"Well, Mrs. Steele told me how proud you are and how you'd never let on that anything was troubling you. She thought that I would have a good feel for how you're doing since I was your roommate. She asked me if it was okay for her to call me every once in a while and see how you were doing."

"How thoughtful of her," I said sarcastically.

"Now here's the crazy part. She told me that in return for my trouble, she'd like to offer me the same scholarship you were receiving, $10,000 for the year. I thought to myself, 'Holy shit, I can pay off some of my student loans with that kind of money!'

"So I told her, sure, that I'd be glad to do it. It was then that she told me that there were three conditions."

"I'm sure there were. With Miranda, there are always conditions."

"First, I could not tell you that Ms. Steele had contacted me," Marni explained. "Second, I had to be completely honest about what was going on with you, as far as I knew."

Marni paused and looked at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. I could tell she didn't want to get to the third reason.

"And third . . .!" I demanded.

"She told me to keep my hands off you . . . you know, sexually."

"Yes, I know very well," I said with a long sigh. "So you agreed to all of this?"

I looked away from Marni for a moment, as tears of frustration began to well up in my eyes. Just when I thought I was prepared for anything Miranda might throw at me, she always seemed to find something new to torture me with.

The sky outside the tinted windows had grown dark. I could see the sparse lights from some unknown small town down below, but I had no idea of where we were or where we were going as the jet engines hummed in the background.

"Yes, I agreed, Sarah. I didn't see anything wrong with keeping her up to date on how you were doing. And as far as keeping my hands off you . . . I'd never even thought about you that way. I didn't even know you before we moved in together.

"The only trouble is . . . "

"What?"

"Ever since we started masturbating together, all I could think of was touching you." Marni's voice trailed off as she made this admission.

I could tell Marni felt bad about what she'd gotten herself into, what she'd gotten both of us into. I reached over and took her hand again and held it in both of mine. She turned to look at me again and I could see her lip quivering a little. I knew this must be very hard for her.

"That's the reason I wrote you that snotty note, you know," Marni said as she looked back at me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

"What do you mean?"

"I was mad at you for using my dildo."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

"No, I mean I was mad . . . because you used it by yourself. I wanted to be there with you and I felt you'd somehow excluded me."

"My god, Marni, I . . ." 

This time it was her turn to comfort me as she stroked my cheek and used her thumb to wipe away the little tear that had started making its way from the corner of my left eye.

We leaned together and held hands without saying another word for nearly ten minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts—thoughts about opportunities lost and what might lie ahead for both of us.

After I felt we'd both collected ourselves somewhat, I turned to Marni again. "Okay, so tell me about your 'reports' to Miranda."

"Well, she only called me a couple of times during the first two months. Just asked me typical stuff. Did you seem to be enjoying your classes? Were you studying a lot? How were your spirits? The kind of things you'd expect. I told her things were going so well it was boring."

Marni tried to smile a little at her joke, but I didn't smile. I knew what was coming.

"The next time she called, she asked about your social life, whether you had any boyfriends . . . any girlfriends," her voice trailed off. "But I told her there wasn't anything to report there, either, because you kept your nose in your books all the time.

"But I did think it was sort of odd that she wanted to know about your social life."

"Any more calls?" I asked.

"Just one more . . . about three weeks ago, just after I wrote you that note. This time she really pushed me for personal information. She especially wanted to make sure I'd kept my hands off you. She acted like she didn't believe me when I told her I hadn't touched you.

"She was like a fucking district attorney, firing all these questions at me. Very personal questions, you know?"

"God, do I know," I sighed.

"Finally, she threatened to take back the $5,000 she'd already given me and to cancel my scholarship for second semester if I wasn't completely honest. And, my god, I'd already spent the first $5,000 and couldn't possibly pay her back, so I finally just blurted it all out!"

"Blurted what out?"

"About us masturbating together. About the big black dildo. Everything."

My shoulders sagged, my heart sank, and I just sat there for a long time. Finally, I turned back to Marni. "I know, Sweetie, how she can be. I know it too well."

Then I proceeded to tell Marni about my interview for the scholarship, leaving out the most embarrassing details, but including enough that she got the full impact of what might be in store for us. When I finished, Marni just stared at me.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I had no idea what you'd already been through."

"It's okay," I whispered. "We're in this together now."

"So, did Miranda tell you not to bring any luggage . . . nothing but your purse?" I asked.

I could see Marni's face begin to flush a deep crimson. The color started in her cheeks, then extended down her neck and covered the small portion of her freckled chest that I could see over her scoop neck top.

"Well, she specifically ordered me to bring one other thing."

I just sat there . . . waiting for the other boot to drop.

Wordlessly, Marni reached into her rather large purse, felt around for just a moment and found what she was looking for. As she pulled it out, I felt that combination of dread and arousal that had become so familiar to me in the past few months.

Marni was holding the massive 18-inch dildo, its two heads jutting proudly, defiantly from either end, and the thick black shaft completely filling her trembling hand.

**********

As I stared wordlessly at the big black dong, my mind wandered back to the afternoon when I lay on my bed and shamelessly fucked myself with it while fantasizing about Marni joining me on the other end. The emotions really were almost too much for me to take, both then and now.

But I was roused from my thoughts by a change in the sound of the jet engines, signaling that the plane was slowing down. About that time, we began a rapid decent that would take us to our final destination—whatever that might be. Rachel opened the door from the flight deck, stuck her head in the cabin and reminded us to buckle our seatbelts.

"Where are we, Rachel?" I managed before she disappeared again.

"It's called Executive Airpark," she responded. "It's a small airport that caters exclusively to private jets, located in upstate New York. Ms. Steele uses it exclusively when she travels and it's only about 30 minutes from her house."

"New York," I thought to myself. "I've never been to New York before. And I bet this isn't my only first this weekend."

In only a few more minutes, the airplane had touched down and taxied to one of about a dozen hangars bunched near one end of the airport. It was hard to see many details outside because of the darkness, but inside the hangar was another story.

The offices and waiting areas were very plush, and it was obvious that they catered to people who expected the very best treatment. And true to form, as I was admiring the luxurious surroundings, I saw a long limousine pull up near the front door. I knew it must be for us. And, of course, it was black.

Before we headed out the door, I quickly pulled Rachel aside.

"I've been flying for three hours and really need to go to the bathroom," I confided softly. "Could you wait just a second until I find a restroom?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah. My instructions are to bring you to Ms. Steele's home as soon as possible upon arrival. It's not a very long drive."

Fortunately, I'd not had anything to drink on the flight, so I figured by bladder could endure a little more.

The driver opened the door for Marni and me, and we scooted in to sit side by side on the rich leather seat. We sat close enough that our legs were touching, and I think it made both of us feel a little more settled. Rachel slid in and sat across from us.

Of course, the driver had no luggage to deal with, so he was quickly at the wheel and we drove away toward our meeting with Miranda Steele.

As we drove along in silence, I had the chance to study Rachel a bit more. And in the soft glow of the interior light of the limo, I could see that she was every bit as lovely as I had thought when I first saw her back in Springfield.

As I watched, she reached up and loosened her hair, allowing it to cascade down over her shoulders. She shook her head a little and fluffed it with her fingers, and the result was a much softer look for her already-pretty face. She wore a very professional, but very feminine business suit made from a lovely muted green silk. The skirt hit her just above her knee when she stood up, but seated in the back of the limo, it threatened to ride up beyond mid-thigh. She had left the top two buttons of her jacket unbuttoned, allowing a lacy lighter green camisole to peek out.

I caught just a glimpse of the tops of her thigh-high stockings as her skirt rode up a bit further, and noticed that Marni was casting an admiring glance in the same direction.

"That's a beautiful outfit, Rachel," I offered, hoping a little casual conversation would help relieve the tension that was building as we got closer to Miranda's house. I also hoped it would take my mind off the fact that I needed badly to go to the bathroom.

"Thank you, Sarah. Ms. Steele selected it for me."

Now I was curious. "She selected your outfit for you?" I was eager to see where this might lead.

"Oh yes, she chooses all my clothes. That was one of the conditions of my employment as her personal assistant. She has a certain look that she requires."

"Very interesting, Rachel. So Miranda picks out all of your outfits that you wear to work?"

"Well, not exactly," she responded, her large green eyes looking downward. "She selects all my clothes—the casual ones as well as the professional outfits."

"Of course she does," I thought to myself. "She couldn't stand it if she didn't control you in every possible way." But I tried not to let on to Rachel how unsettling I thought the whole arrangement was. Marni must have thought the same thing, because I felt her reach over to take my hand and give it a tight squeeze.

The black limousine slid along the dark highway, which seemed to be bordered on each side by tall trees. Occasionally, we would cross a bridge and the sound of the tires would change just a little, before returning to the low hum of the tires on the asphalt.

"So how long have you worked for Ms. Steel?" Marni asked.

"She gave me my first job right out of college three years ago," Rachel explained. "And I'm really going to miss working for her."

"So you're leaving soon?" I asked. "Did you find a better job?"

"Oh, no. I could never find a better job than this," Rachel hurriedly explained. "But Ms. Steele has a rule that her personal assistants can't stay over three years. She wants to offer the opportunity to other young women."

"I'll just bet she does," I thought. "And I'm sure the interviews for those positions are really something."

The car began to slow down, and in just a moment we made a hard right turn and stopped in front of a wide wrought iron gate that was flanked by two massive stone columns. In just a second, the gate began to open slowly inward, and soon the limo was moving once again, gliding along a long, curving drive, which had to be at least a half-mile long.

In a couple more minutes, we pulled through a circular drive and stopped in front of the biggest house I had ever seen. To call it a mansion, wouldn't really do it justice. It was more like a castle, built of heavy grey stone and rising three stories above us. It was hard to tell exactly how big it was, as the front of the house, which extended out from either side of the massive front door, sort of receded into the darkness without giving a hint at where it actually stopped.

Marni leaned close to me and whispered, "Holy shit!" And I thought that summed it up pretty well.

The driver opened the limo door for the three of us, and Marni and I followed Rachel up the broad stone steps to the heavy wooden front door that extended upward for two stories. Rachel rang the bell, and the door was opened almost immediately be a butler who looked just like he had stepped out of an English movie.

"Good evening, Miss Rachel," he greeted her. Then he looked at Marni and me and smiled. "And you must be Miss Sarah and Miss Marni. Welcome. "

I appreciated his apparent hospitality, but it made me wonder whether he had some idea of why we were here. I certainly hoped not.

"Thank you, Simon," Rachel said in her most businesslike tone. "Does Ms. Steele know we've arrived?"

"Oh, yes ma'am. She instructed me to bring you into the first floor spa as soon as you arrived." 

With that, Simon began leading the three of us across the wide entryway and around behind the massive staircase that rose up from either side of it. We made a right turn down a long hallway, and I became keenly aware of the clicking sounds made by the heels of my boots on the slate floor. I began to wonder whether it was really a good idea to wear these boots, after all.

I also became keenly aware that I still needed to go to the bathroom. The pressure had continued to increase during the half-hour ride from the airport, and my nervousness only made it worse. But a pit stop just didn't seem to be in the cards right then.

We'd probably walked half the length of a football field down the hallway when Simon finally stopped in front of a door. He turned the knob and motioned us inside. And before my eyes could even take in this enormous room, which looked like something out of a travel and leisure magazine, my eyes locked on a figure on the far side of the room.

All at once, the emotions that I'd been trying to keep under control for the past four months . . . the emotions I had felt at that first "interview" . . . the arousal, the excitement and the shame . . . all came flooding back to me. My knees buckled, and I had to grab Marni's arm to steady myself.

"Good evening, Sarah. I'm so glad you could come." And once again, I was face-to-face with Miranda Steele.

******

Miranda looked just as I remembered her—those piercing dark eyes dominating her pretty face. She must have been in her 40's, but her trim figure suggested a much younger image, especially from my vantage point across the large room. She was wearing a black wrap dress that clung tightly to her curves and, not surprisingly, she sported what appeared to be the same pair of boots that I humiliated myself on during my initial "interview."

A rich woman like Miranda Steel must own hundreds of pairs of shoes and boots. I knew it was no coincidence that she had worn these particular ones this night. Her dark hair was pulled up tightly on top of her head, giving her an even more severe look than I remembered. I was sure she had thought out her look very carefully as she planned for this evening.

The room looked to be the size of a small gymnasium, but divided into several sections. To my right was an area that featured nearly every kind of workout machine available, including the vaunted StariMaster that I had used so diligently to tone my butt. To the far left was what appeared to be a hot tub, and several massage tables, laid out side-by-side. And next to those, right out in the open, were several shower heads projecting from the tile walls. There didn't seem to be much privacy in Miranda's spa.

And in the central part of the vast room, where we were standing, was an area that seemed to be designed for aerobics and dance. There were mirrors lining one wall, and the floor was made of a resilient material that would be easy on the joints during a heavy workout. And there was this black leather chair in the center of it all—no doubt Miranda's chair. It was strategically located so she could take in everything that happened to be going on in the room at any given time.

I heard the door behind us close as Simon returned to his other duties, and Rachel left Marni and me standing together just inside as she went over to greet her employer. Miranda took Rachel's face between her two hands and caressed it lightly before giving her a brief kiss on either cheek.

Then something happened that gave me this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Miranda turned and resumed her place the leather chair, where she had apparently been seated when we entered, while Rachel very nonchalantly took a seat on the floor at Miranda's feet, tucking her long legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around Miranda's lower legs as if she was sort of "hugging" those boots.

It was clear that the title of personal assistant to Miranda Steele carried a heavy emphasis on "personal." Marni and I were standing dead still watching all this, when Miranda broke the silence.

"Come closer, please. Sarah, it's so good to see you again. And, Marni, we've not officially met until now, but I'm so pleased you are here, too." I knew these pleasantries couldn't last very long.

"Sarah, did Marni tell you how helpful she's been to me these past few months?"

"She told me about her arrangement with you on the flight out here. But I might call it something besides help."

"Frankly, dear, I'm not interested in what you'd call it." Miranda's eyes narrowed a bit as she looked me up and down. "You're here to complete the application process for the second half of your scholarships, so let's get on with it."

Well, so much for the pleasantries.

"Now, Sarah, Marni, "Miranda began. "I want to make sure you understand the requirements of this application process. First you will tell me the absolute truth whenever I ask you a question. Second, you will do as I instruct you . . . immediately upon my instruction. Do you both understand?"

Of course, I understood completely, as I had been through this before. But, as I glanced over at Marni, I could tell by the size of her big blue gray eyes that she was having a little trouble taking it all in.

"Ms. Steele?" Marni asked apprehensively. "What if you tell us to do something that we're just not comfortable with?"

Miranda looked at my roommate, allowing her dark eyes to play over Marni's supple body. It was sort of a caress without actually touching. And I noticed Marni begin to squirm a little under Miranda's gaze.

"First of all, Marni, you are not here for me to make you comfortable. You are here because you need money and I need a little diversion in my life." Miranda's words were cold, cutting—not at all the reassurance that I'm certain Marni was hoping for.

"And if you refuse to do as I instruct you, the consequences are very simple. You will be escorted to the airport immediately and will return home without your scholarship. And by the way, Marni, you and I both know how badly you need the money. It's been quite easy to find out the extent of your indebtedness.

"Besides, as Sarah can tell you, I've never told her to do anything that she hasn't enjoyed." 

Miranda looked me in the eye as she said that, waiting for some acknowledgment that what she said was true. She and I both knew it was, indeed, the truth, but I didn't want to admit, even to myself, how much I'd gotten off on the humiliation of our last interview. And I certainly didn't want to admit it to my roommate.




The Scholarship Ch. 04



I just stood there mutely, hoping Miranda would move on. But, of course, she didn't.

"Now, Sarah, please tell Marni how much you enjoyed our last interview. The truth now."

"Well," I hesitated. "I'm not sure 'enjoyed' is quite the word."

That was definitely not the answer Miranda was looking for.

"Oh, so you didn't enjoy it, Sarah? Is that what you're telling me? You know all I require of you is truth and obedience. Or do you want to fly home without your scholarship?"

My face began to flush a little, knowing that I was going to have to admit to Marni, not to mention to Rachel, who was still sitting at Miranda's feet caressing her boots, that I did get off on the humiliation. Before I could decide how I could answer the question truthfully, but in a way that made me sound a little less like a slut, Miranda came back at me.

"All right, Sarah, let's approach it this way. We won't use the term 'enjoy,' since you seem to be somehow afraid of it. Tell me, dear, at our first interview, did you tell me about that dirty old man that made you let him cum on your breasts?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, not daring to look at Marni or Rachel. I cast my gaze downward, and there they were . . . Miranda's boots.

"Very good! Now we're getting somewhere." Miranda's voice had taken on a mocking tone. "And did you raise your dress and pull your panties aside so I could see your cunt?"

My cheeks were bright red now, thinking of what Marni and Rachel must be thinking. "Yes," I whispered.

"Excellent! Now here's the key question, dear. When you pulled your panties aside and showed me your little cunt, was it wet?"

"Yes," I whimpered, my bottom lip trembling.

"Well, Marni," Miranda said mockingly. "I'll let you be the judge of whether our Sarah enjoyed it or not. What do you say, Marni, did she enjoy it?"

I was aware of Marni shifting around a little where we stood, obviously uncomfortable in having to be the jury in this little war of words between Miranda and me.

"Tell me, Marni," Miranda pressed. "Did Sarah enjoy it?"

"Well," Marni began reluctantly, obviously trying to find a way to spare my feelings. "It sounds as if she responded to it, at least."

"Oh she 'responded,' did she? Another nice euphemism. Why can't I get a direct answer from anyone? Miranda's voice was louder. She was obviously getting impatient.

"All right, Sarah, I don't think Marni has quite enough information to form her opinion about whether you enjoyed our last interview." I knew what was coming next. I just didn't exactly how she was going to ask me.

"Sarah, please explain to Marni what you did after you showed me your wet little cunt that day."

I looked over at Marni and saw pity in her eyes. She knew it was going to be bad, but she didn't know just how bad. She mouthed, "I'm sorry," as I tried to think how to describe delicately what happened.

"Well," I began reluctantly, my voice barely audible. "I was aroused, you know . . . and I rubbed myself on Miranda's boot." 

"You rubbed yourself, did you, Sarah?" Miranda mocked. "Tell Marni what you rubbed, dear." And I'd finally had enough.

"All right, you bitch!" I screamed at her. "I rubbed my pussy on your boot! And I came and came and came. How's that for the fucking truth?!"

I saw Miranda's mouth tighten just a little when I yelled at her. But, of course, she was not going to let me have the last word.

"Sarah," she said, looking at me coolly. "I think a demonstration would be in order, please lower your jeans." As she said it, Miranda pulled her right leg from Rachel's grasp and extended it toward me. 

My lip started to quiver again. "Oh god, Miranda! Oh, fuck. Here? Now?"

And the bitch simply nodded her head.

Slowly, reluctantly, I began to unfasten my jeans, lowering them enough to expose my thighs, my panties, which were already quite wet. Miranda knew they would be, of course.

I stood there with my eyes lowered, unable to look at anyone, especially Marni. But I felt three pairs of eyes on me as I reached for the waist band of my panties and pulled them down to expose my mound. I slid the thong down to my knees with my jeans and took a couple of steps forward.

Slowly, I knelt astride Miranda's boot and pulled her leg to me. I lowered myself onto the boot and felt the cool leather against my labia. All the feelings that had haunted me for the past few months came flooding back as I felt Miranda push the boot upward into me.

"Good girl, Sarah," I heard Miranda's voice in the distance, as I entered this sick, perverted world of lust and surrender. I moved myself against her, over and over, and felt the beginnings of an orgasm building deep inside me. I had reached the point where I didn't care who was watching or what they thought.

I didn't hear Miranda's voice at first. "All right, Sarah, that's enough for now."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! She'd taken me right to the brink and now the bitch was making me step back. It was vintage Miranda. 

"That's enough, Sarah," she repeated, as she withdrew her leg from my grasp. "Stand up now, dear."

I stood up, not even bothering to pull my jeans and thong up from around my knees. What difference could it possibly make at this point?

By this time, my eyes had filled with tears and I was struggling to muffle the sobs that were trying to escape me. I really didn't want Miranda to have the satisfaction of making me cry. But it was clear how upset I was, and Marni moved closer to me and put her arm around my shoulders.

Through all this, Miranda hardly changed expressions. She just sat there with that humorless smile on her face, running her hands through Rachel's hair. "Now, Marni, wouldn't you say that Sarah enjoyed her last interview with me?"

"Yes," was all that Marni could manage.

"All right," Miranda said cheerfully, "now that we've established that we're all going to enjoy ourselves here, let's get started! 



The Scholarship Ch. 05



Author's Note:  To fully enjoy this story, you should read chapters 1-3. But to understand it at all, you must read the immediately preceding chapter.

"Marni, Sarah, please take off your clothes.  All of them."

Miranda just sat there and looked at us as if she had simply requested that we do her a slight favor and leave our shoes at the door or something; not given us an order to disrobe completely in front of her and her personal assistant.

I could see the shocked look on Marni's face, but the order didn't surprise me at all.  I was expecting it.  I'd even trimmed my pubic hair for just such an eventuality.  But right now, I had a more pressing need.

"Miranda . . . Ms Steele," I said tentatively.  "Before we go on, would it be all right if I went to the bathroom?  I've needed to go really badly ever since we landed at the airport."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.  Now Miranda had something else that she could use to manipulate me.  I cursed under my breath at how stupid I'd been to let her know.

"I'm sorry, dear.  This really won't take very long.  I'm sure you won't mind waiting just a bit more, as we're almost finished for the night."   She might have just as well said, "Hell, no," because that's exactly what I knew she meant.

Then Marni spoke up.  "What about Rachel?  I guess we have to do this shit for you, but is it necessary for her to see us naked, too?"  I was really proud of her asserting herself like that.

"Oh, my," Miranda mocked again.  "I see what you mean, dear.  That would be uncomfortable for you.  Let's see what we can do about that."  Then she looked down at her personal assistant and said, "Rachel, please take off your clothes.  I think that might make Sarah and Marni feel a little less inhibited."

And without the least bit of hesitation, Rachel stood and began to shed her clothes.  Soon the lovely green silk suit was lying in a pool at her feet.  I couldn't help but admire her lithe figure, as she stood there in nothing but her light green cami, matching silk thong and thigh high stockings.  

In just another moment, she slipped the camisole over her head, revealing her pert breasts and rock hard nipples.  As she slipped the tiny thong over her hips, lowered it and stepped out, I couldn't help but notice a large wet spot that seemed to indicate Rachel's keen interest in this interview process.

I also couldn't help but notice that her mound was cleanly shaven and quite delicious looking.  I heard Marni whimper softly, apparently at the realization that she and I would be the next to shed our clothes.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were our breathing and the hum of a far-off ventilation fan.  Then Miranda broke the silence.  "Rachel, please leave your lovely stockings on.  I don't think Marni and Sarah will mind, will you girls?"

I didn't feel the need to even answer, as Rachel returned to her spot at Miranda's feet, apparently not at all fazed by her lack of clothing.  Miranda reached down and stroked her hair a few more times, then looked up wordlessly at Marni and me.  And we knew it was now our turn.

I decided I might as well make the first move, since my jeans and panties were already down around my knees, and I hoped I could also offer a little encouragement to Marni.  So I lifted my wool turtleneck sweater over my head, exposing the new light blue bra I had worn especially for this moment.  After wrestling the sweater over my head, I looked down and noticed that one of my nipples had poked its way out of the low-cut bra.  And it was hard, very hard.

I saw Marni follow my lead and begin to unbutton her blouse, slowly at first, then faster, as she apparently decided to get it over as soon as possible.  Off came the blouse and soon her denim miniskirt.  Then she paused, apparently waiting for me to slip out of my tight jeans so we could do the rest together.

It took me a little longer because I had to sit down on the floor to remove my boots before the jeans could come all the way off, and I could feel Miranda's eyes on me as I struggled to free my feet from the boots.  Finally, they were off—both the boots and the jeans, and I looked up to see where Marni was in her part of this little striptease.

"What lovely boots, Sarah."  It was Miranda, of course.  "Did you wear them just for me, dear?"  My face flushed crimson, but I said nothing, refusing to acknowledge that I had done just that.  For some strange reason, I felt the need to pull my panties back up, I suppose so I could take them off again with Marni.

Now came the hard part.  Almost in unison, Marni and I reached around to unclasp our bras and let them fall to the floor.  The hard part wasn't standing there topless, exactly.  It was standing there topless with nipples that were hard as rocks, betraying our arousal.

Finally our panties joined the bras with the rest of the clothes on the floor, and Marni and I stood totally naked in front of Miranda Steel and her very personal assistant.  Just as I was wondering what would happen next, I found out.

"Sarah, dear, since you were so thoughtful to wear those boots for me, would you please put them back on so we can complete tonight's assignment."  

I just looked at her for a moment, trying to read what was going on behind those dark eyes, but her expression never changed.  Miranda simply sat there quite still, one leg crossed over the other, stroking Rachel's hair like she was some kind of a pet.  And I guess she actually was.

In fact, it occurred to me that Marni and I were her pets, too, but we just hadn't been "tamed" quite yet.  Perhaps that's what this was all about.

Giving up trying to decipher Miranda's expression, I sat down on the floor and began to pull the boots on.  I found it quite difficult to do without spreading my legs in a most unladylike fashion, particularly given my state of total undress.

I stood back up, noticing that the three inch heels of the boots made me nearly as tall as Marni, who was standing there in her bare feet.  In fact, she was standing there in her bare everything, looking quite lovely.  Miranda and Rachel seemed to join me in admiration for Marni's voluptuous figure, her magnificent breasts so full and round, all the way down to the little auburn colored landing strip that adorned her mound.

As for me, I was trying my best to come across as asexual as possible, just to spite Miranda, who was obviously getting some sick kind of sexual thrill out of this whole thing.  But it was hard not to feel sexy, to look sexy, in my black leather boots with the three inch heels, as they made my leg muscles taught and my ass jut out suggestively.

We both stood before Miranda, neither of us quite knowing what to do with our hands.  Should we try to cover ourselves?  Or should we try to be nonchalant as possible so Miranda wouldn't get the satisfaction of making us so uncomfortable?

But Miranda just looked us up and down for the longest time, seemingly trying to memorize every curve, every detail of our bodies.  And her only reaction was the twitching of her leg as it dangled there, crossed over the other one at the knee.

Then, to my utter surprise, Miranda leaned over and whispered to Rachel, "You may kiss me now."  And with that, Rachel got to her knees and moved close to Miranda, offering herself to her employer.  Their mouths met and they kissed for a long time, with eyes closed and hands lightly caressing each other.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought there was real affection between the two of them.  But I knew Miranda and felt confident any affection was totally one-sided.  One thing about it, though.  It did appear that Marni's and my reluctant performance had succeeded in arousing Miranda Steele.

In a few moments, Miranda broke the kiss and turned back to Marni and me, still standing there naked in front of her chair.  We'll, I wasn't quite naked, I did have my boots on.  But, in some way, they made me feel even more exposed, as if I were truly putting on some kinky show.

Miranda looked us up and down again with those piercing dark eyes, and proclaimed, "I like all my girls to be shaved.  I want to see bare little cunts on my girls, like Rachel here."

Rachel blushed a little as Miranda pointed at her sex, then ran her hand slowly over her assistant's bare mound.

This little display seemed to touch a nerve in Marni.  "We're not your girls," Marni exclaimed.  "Rachel may be, but Sarah and I aren't!"

Miranda fixed her eyes on Marni, never removing her hand from Rachel's smooth mound.  She continued to caress her as she shot back at my angry friend, "My dear Marni.  You have been my girl ever since you cashed my check, and ever since you reported to me about Sarah."  I could tell Marni was getting the message.

"Of course, I don't need to remind Sarah.  She already knows she's my girl."  Miranda's voice was syrupy.  "She's been my girl since the first time she fucked herself on my boot.  Isn't that right, Sarah?"

I simply nodded my head, not daring to meet Marni's gaze.  But I began to see that Rachel and I might have more in common than I'd originally thought.

"Now, as I was saying before Marni interrupted me," Miranda continued.  "I like my girls to have bare little cunts.  And since it is clear that the two of you do not, we're going to have to fix that."

She motioned to a cabinet over in the corner of the room.  "Rachel, the things you will need are in that second drawer.  I want you to make Sarah and Marni look pretty like you."

"But . . . but," Marni was a bit more subdued this time, but she still seemed to want to argue the point.  I, on the other hand, decided not to waste my breath.  "Couldn't we just do that, shave ourselves, tonight when we shower?"  Marni offered once more.

"Oh, no, dear.  If you did that, you'd be depriving Rachel of the pleasure of helping you and me of the pleasure of watching.  You wouldn't want that would you?"

Simple translation:  Hell no.

Marni shrugged her shoulders and let out a long sigh as Rachel began pulling her "equipment" from the second drawer of the cabinet.  First came a medium-sized, round basin, followed by what looked like a coffee mug with a wooden handle sticking out of the top.  Next, she added a container of talcum powder and some towels.  Finally, there was a stainless steel handle with a leather strap dangling from the end.  The light gleamed off it as Rachel laid it on a tray with the other things.

Rachel carried the tray over to the shower area to a sink and began running warm water into the basin.  When it was nearly full, she allowed just a little to drip into the bottom of the mug.  Then she came back over to join Marni and me in front of Miranda.

Rachel stopped first in front of Marni.  I don't know if it was because of some prearranged order that Miranda had established, or because there was less work to be done on her.  After all, Marni was already nearly bare, except for the little dark red landing strip atop her mound.  I, on the other hand, while neatly trimmed, had a lot more to deal with.

Rachel glanced up at Miranda, who gave a single nod of her head.  That was enough for Rachel, and the shaving was about to begin.

I watched Marni, as she fixed her eyes on Rachel.  She watched as Rachel took one of the towels from the tray and dipped it in the basin to get it good and wet.  Then, she carefully wrung it out and reached up and applied it to Marni's mound.  Marni jumped a little when the warm towel touched her sensitive area and gave out a little sigh at the sensation.

I jumped a little, also, at the thought of Rachel touching Marni there, and of her undoubtedly touching me in the same place in a few moments.  I could feel myself getting moist again and just hoped that my juices would not escape my wet folds and start trickling down the insides of my thighs.

"Would you hold this in place for a moment, please?" Rachel asked Marni, referring to the warm, wet towel that now covered her mound.  Without a word, Marni reached down and held it in place, while Rachel took the wooden handle and began stirring what I now could identify as a shaving brush, around in the mug.

When she seemed to be satisfied with the results of her mixing, she knelt in front of Marni and removed the towel.  By this time, the little red landing strip was all moist and matted, and apparently ready to be shaved.

Rachel gave the brush one last stir, then began applying the white foamy soap to Marni's mound, covering the entire area as she moved the brush in circular motions.  I saw Marni close her eyes and begin nibbling on her lower lip.  

Rachel seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time stroking Marni with the soft, soapy bristles, despite the fact that there was hardly any hair to shave.  Probably unconsciously, Marni shifted her weight a little and took one step to the side with her right foot, opening herself to Rachel's touch.

Encouraged, Rachel began applying the soap to the creases on either side of Marni's labia, right where her legs meet her luscious sex.  I could see Marni's nipples harden under Rachel's apparently expert touch.  By this time, Marni's full lips were slightly parted and her neck and chest beginning to flush.

I knew mine probably looked the same way, and I suddenly realized that my hand had unconsciously drifted to my own mound and I was touching myself lightly.  Embarrassed, I looked at Miranda, and sure enough, she was watching me.  I quickly thrust my hands behind my back and did my best to fight my growing arousal.

If Marni was fighting, she was losing the battle, as Rachel ended the application of the shaving soap by running the soft bristles along the length of her wet slit, all the way from her anus to her clitoris.  And by the time the brush reached the top, Marni was sort of lowering herself, seemingly to press against it.

But then Rachel was through with the brush and she returned it to the mug and reached for the silver handle there on the tray.  Of course, it was a straight razor, and the sharp blade gleamed in the bright light as she straightened it out and prepared to apply it to Marni's mound.

At the first touch, I found myself instinctively flinching, as I thought about the sharp steel coming into close contact with such tender flesh.  As she began to shave my now obviously enflamed roommate, Rachel used her free hand to stretch Marni's skin tight, to allow the razor to shave as close and smoothly as possible.

With each stroke of the razor, I heard Marni gasp softly, not in pain, but as if she was enjoying a very erotic experience.  I know that it was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen—beautiful naked Rachel, nipples hard and erect, kneeling before my equally gorgeous roommate, face not 12 inches from Marni's sex, gently shaving her mound with the gleaming razor.

As I looked a little closer, I could see that occasionally Rachel's thumb would brush across Marni's swollen clit as she stretched the skin of her mound tight.  By the time Rachel had finished her task, Marni was gently rocking her hips, as if trying to stimulate herself on some unseen object.

The little landing strip now gone, Rachel rinsed out the towel, wrung the excess water out and began to remove the vestiges of hair and shaving soap from Marni's now bare mound.  Once again, the washing and wiping looked a lot more like sexual stimulation than hygiene.  And the slow, sensuous movement of Marni's hips attested that it felt the same way.

Rachel then took another towel and dried Marni's freshly-shaven mound before finally shaking some talcum powder onto her hand and rubbing it all over the tender skin.  I could see Marni's hips move as Rachel touched her with the powder, desperate to create contact with her enflamed clit.

But now Rachel was through with Marni, and my friend was left in an obvious state of arousal, as Miranda's assistant moved over in front of me.  Once again kneeling, her head just inches from my sex, Rachel must have been aware of how turned on I had become.  I could smell the aroma of my arousal quite clearly, and I knew the scent had to be nearly overpowering from her vantage point.  She was so close I could feel her breath on my moist lips.

And it seemed the more aroused I became, the more urgently I needed to go to the bathroom.  But I bit my lip and hoped that the process would be quick and we would be done for the night.  Based on Marni's experience, however, the shaving did not appear to be at all quick.

The feel of the warm towel on my mound brought my thoughts back to the moment, and I moaned softly at the erotic sensation.  Then, as with Marni, Rachel asked me to hold the towel in place as she prepared the shaving soap.

In just a moment, she was stroking me lightly with the brush, making those exquisite little circles on my mound, bathing my coarse dark hair in the white foam.  My already erect clit hardened further at Rachel's sensuous touch.  I had to close my eyes, feeling that if I actually could see what she was doing, I would cum right on the spot.

She soaped me with the brush for what seemed like an hour, lingering seductively along my puffy lips and at the top of my opening, where the gentle bristles played over my sensitive clit.  But it was when she made that final stroke of the brush, from my anus all the way up to the little pearl, that I felt that tingling deep in my belly that warned of an impending orgasm.

I closed my eyes tighter and bit hard on my lip, tasting a bit of blood.  I hoped the pain would distract me from the delicious sensations between my legs.  I knew if I came, the odds were good that I would lose complete control and embarrass myself fully and utterly.

Then it was time for the razor.  But it wasn't so much the feel of the razor gliding over my tender mound.  It was the feel of Rachel's soft hands as she stretched my skin this way and that to allow her to shave closely.  Each time she stretched my skin, it created this intense pressure on my hard clit, as the skin around it was stretched tight, as well.

The only sensation I could relate it to came from my brief affair with Phil Smith.  His cock was quite wide, and when he pressed it into my rather small opening, it stretched the skin tight over my little pearl, making it ultra sensitive to each of his thrusts.

This sensation was exactly what I was experiencing with Rachel at that moment.  And with each stroke of the razor, I could feel the thrusting of Phil's big cock.  Over.  And over.  And over.  Until it was just unbearable.

The tingle in my belly had turned into a pulsing.  The feeling was beginning to radiate out from my core to every extremity.  My arms went stiff, and my legs followed.  My breaths were coming in short bursts.  I was literally panting and doing my best to hump Rachel's hand as she quickly finished shaving me.

"Oh fuck!  Fucccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk."

And I stabbed three fingers deep in my throbbing cunt and just held them there, the heel of my hand pressed hard against my now-shaven mound as I came with a fury that I had never experienced before.  My legs buckled and I collapsed to my knees, fingers still buried deep inside.

Then I felt the warm liquid begin to flow from me, mixing with my cum, the shaving cream and making a large puddle on the floor beneath me.  It was as if every muscle in my body had gone slack.  I simply emptied myself right there in front of Miranda, Marni and Rachel.

Empty of energy.  Of self respect. Of shame.  Totally empty.

******
I hardly remember going to bed that night.  I assume Rachel and Marni, and perhaps even Simon, helped me to the room Miranda had assigned to me and tucked me into bed.  I awoke the next morning feeling as if I'd been drugged, looking groggily around the room trying to figure out where I was.




The Scholarship Ch. 05



Finally, I remembered, and the events of the previous night began flooding back.  I pulled the covers over my head and prayed that people would forget where they left me last night.  Unfortunately, they did not, and at 10 a.m. sharp, Rachel stuck her head in my room.

"Ms. Steele will be expecting you and Marni for brunch at 11."  Then she added, totally unnecessarily, "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."  What a surprise that was.

I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower, located in the adjoining bathroom.  It wasn't necessary to undress, as I was still naked from the night before.  Apparently someone had removed my boots.  I feared they might have been quite wet as a result of my unfortunate "accident."

But the warm spray of the shower felt good on my skin and I began to feel a little more human.  As I soaped myself, my hands made their way to the curve of my mound and felt the unfamiliar smoothness.  Rachel had done a good job, indeed, and the feeling of my soapy hands gliding over the smooth, slick flesh was extremely sensual.

But as much as I usually enjoyed masturbating in a warm shower, there was not enough time this morning, and besides, I was sort of "sexed out" from the night before.  I knew it would take quite a lot to get me aroused that day.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself on the luxurious white towels hanging on the rack nearby.  I wrapped one around my wet hair and one around my body and walked back into the bedroom to see what clothes Miranda had picked out for me to wear that day.

God only knew what she might have dreamt up.

Well, as it turned out, she hadn't dreamt up anything.  There were no clothes, not even the ones I had arrived in yesterday.  After searching every conceivable place, I had to conclude that it was Miranda's desire that I not wear any clothes at all.

I finished drying myself, then my hair as best I could with the towel.  Then I fluffed out my damp curls and examined myself in the full-length mirror on the closet door.  Of course, my eyes fell directly on my shaven mound and I felt it again with my hands, running them over the rise and fall of it and marveling at its smoothness and sensitivity.

If it hadn't been for the way I acquired this new bare look, I probably would have actually enjoyed the look, the feel.  Even so, I had to steel myself to fight off the urge to masturbate once again, as I could feel the moistening of my sex.

Just then, I heard Rachel's voice at the door again.  "Five minutes, Sarah.  Please hurry."

"Wait a minute," I called after her, sticking my head out into the hallway to catch her before she disappeared again.  I was about to ask Rachel if we were indeed supposed to come to brunch without any clothes.

But when I looked up and saw her beautiful pert breasts and the bare mound that now matched my own, I knew the answer.  So I quickly changed my question.

"May I walk down to brunch with you?"  I thought it might be a little less embarrassing to be with another naked girl in case we encountered Simon or another of the servants in the hallway.  Something about safety in numbers.

"Sure, follow me," Rachel called over her shoulder.  And I didn't mind following her at all.  I had a wonderful view of her tight little butt as we padded along the stone floor in our bare feet.  This time, as we reached the central part of the house, we turned right, away from the entryway where we had come in the night before, and found ourselves in a beautiful sunroom, awash with bright light and festooned with all manner of plants, flowers and even small trees.

And somewhere along the way, the "sexed out" feeling began to leave me.  It must have been the way Rachel's ass barely even bounced as she walked.  She just had to have been a dancer—she was too tall for a gymnast—because the firmness of her body reflected years of physical fitness.  Her beautiful long legs tensed and flexed with each long, graceful stride.

By the time we reached the lovely sunroom, I was moist again and my nipples had begun to harden.  Perhaps it wouldn't take so much to get me aroused today, after all.

In the middle of the room sat a round table with place settings for four.  Marni was already seated at the table, her luscious breasts peeking out just above the tabletop.  When she looked up and saw Rachel and me enter the room, the worried look left her face and she even managed a wry little smile.  It was if she was asking, "Can you believe what we did last night?"

Rachel motioned me to a chair and then took her own place between Marni and me.  The table was quite small, and as the three of us sat down, I could feel Rachel's leg brush against mine.  Her touch made my nipples harder still, as I remembered the feel of her hands on my mound last night.  I glanced at Marni and noticed the large nipples on her ample breasts beginning to grow, as well.  I wondered whether she might be thinking about the very same thing.

The table was topped by a yellow tablecloth that hung down just far enough to tickle the tops of my bare thighs, and to provide the tiniest bit of modesty for my newly-shaven mound.  I found if I scooted as close to the table as possible, I was almost covered.

I stole a glance to my right and saw that Rachel and Marni had both pulled their chairs up close, too, and we were all pretty much hidden from view from the waist down.  But there wasn't much we could do to hide the hard nipples that the three of us were sporting, partly from the sexual tension in the room, and partly from the anticipation of what might happen next.

The only thing missing now was Miranda.  And we didn't have to wait long, as she soon came sweeping into the room, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor.  She was dressed in black, as usual.  This time in a knee-length skirt that appeared to be made out of silk.  It was flared slightly from the waist, and the hem just grazed the tops of the boots Miranda has chosen for the day.  The heels must have been four inches tall, and made her nearly as tall as Rachel in her bare feet.  Her long-sleeved blouse, also black, was very sheer, and showed off a black lacy camisole that she wore underneath.

"Well now," Miranda chirped.  "How are my girls doing this morning?"

"Fine, Ms. Steele," Rachel responded cheerfully.   Of course she worked for the bitch.  Marni and I both just grunted noncommittally.

"Sarah, Marni, I trust you slept well," Miranda said as she looked back and forth between the two of us.   And before even waiting for an answer, she went right on.  "Let's enjoy our breakfast, shall we?  And then we can talk about the final part of your interview."

And as if on cue, Simon and a uniformed woman that I hadn't seen before began to carry in trays of fruit, sweet rolls, muffins, juices, coffees, along with servings of eggs benedict and several other dishes that I didn't recognize, but that looked delicious.  It was about that time that I realized just how hungry I was.

I hadn't eaten since a light snack on the airplane flight late yesterday afternoon.  Miranda watched and smiled as her three "girls" dug into the delicious spread.  She actually seemed to be deriving some pleasure from our enjoyment of the food provided for us.  It made her seem oddly human to me for the first time in a long time.

As we ate, we all began to relax a bit, and the four of us made small talk, carefully avoiding any mention of last night's activities.  If fact, had I not been sitting at the table in my birthday suit, I might have forgotten them completely for just a while.  That is until I felt a hand begin to stroke my leg sensually.

I gasped quietly in surprise, then glanced down to see Rachel's left arm moving, causing the tablecloth that covered both our thighs to move with it.  The thought that Rachel had the nerve to caress me like that, right under Miranda's nose, made me grow even wetter and my nipples snap once again to attention.  I was sure there would be a noticeable wet spot on my chair when it came time to stand up.

About that time, I heard a little squeal from Marni, who quickly covered her mouth with her napkin and looked at Miranda as if to apologize for her momentary absence of manners.  Miranda just looked at her quizzically and went on with a story that she was telling about how she and her late husband had built the house we were visiting.  But from the hardness of Marni's nipples, I was sure that Rachel was working on her leg, as well.

Miranda kept talking, and Rachel kept stroking, until I began to squirm a little in my chair.  Unconsciously, I parted my legs just a bit, and Rachel responded by moving her hand higher up my thigh and making little tickling movements with her fingernails.  I was sure she was close enough at this point to feel the heat that must have been emanating from my eager pussy, and possibly, feel some of the wetness that was beginning to trickle from my swollen lips.

I looked again at Marni and saw that her eyes were half closed and her lips slightly parted.  It was clear that Rachel's touch was having the same effect on her that it was having on me.

As Miranda rattled on, apparently caught up completely in her story,  I scooted a little lower in my chair, parting my legs even further.  At almost the same time, Rachel moved her hand just high enough that two of her fingers were now able to slip just inside my labia and begin to stroke slowly and sensuously up and down my wet slit.

From the look on Marni's face, Rachel must have been doing something very similar to her.  But when I looked at Rachel, her expression was quite serene and inscrutable.  She must have had a lot of practice keeping her thoughts and actions from Miranda.

I could feel that familiar tingle begin again, just as I had felt it last night as Rachel was shaving my mound. And I knew if this went on for any length of time at all, I could cum right there at the table.  And who knew what might result from that!  For me and for Rachel.

But just then, Miranda finished her story of the house and began to look directly at Marni and me once more.  The change in the tone of her voice seemed to startle Rachel, and her hand withdrew, leaving me right on the verge of a crushing climax.

"Now girls," Miranda began, looking back and forth between Marni and me.  "I'm afraid we were a bit too, how shall I say, adversarial last night.  I truly do want your experience this weekend to be enjoyable . . . for all of us," she added with a smile.

I looked at her, a bit puzzled at the thought that she was interested in anyone's pleasure except her own.  And I tried hard to ignore the arousal that Rachel had caused with her gentle and sensuous touch, as I focused on Miranda's words.

"So today, for the final part of your interview, you are going to get to do something that I know both of your have been wanting for quite some time."  Again, her eyes moved back and forth, staring first at Marni, then at me.

"Sarah," Miranda continued, "Marni has told me about the intimate little sessions the two of you have enjoyed late at night in your room."

Marni and I looked at each other and she mouthed, "I'm sorry."  And I knew she truly was.

"But, for whatever reason, the two of you have been content to pleasure yourselves as if you were alone, when in fact, there was a beautiful, sensual young woman only a few feet away yearning for the touch of the other."

I looked down at my plate, knowing that she was right, as usual, and regretting all of those missed opportunities with Marni.

"And so today, your interview will conclude with the two of you, Marni and Sarah, playing out the little scenario that you have been fantasizing about for months now."

I almost shouted, "Yessssssssssssssss," but managed to contain myself, knowing that another boot would surely drop.  And it did.

"Of course," Miranda went on, "I will have the pleasure of watching the two of you.  And if your performance is satisfactory, you both will have the balance of your scholarships.

"And Marni," she added, "I believe you brought a little something with you that might come in handy for this part of the interview."  We both gasped, softly, remembering Miranda's instructions that Marni should bring the double ended dildo with her!

"Now, I understand that it might be difficult for the two of you to "perform" for me under normal conditions.  That's why I so appreciate Rachel's getting you 'ready' the way she has while we have been eating."

Well, I guess we should have known that we could never get anything past Miranda.  Marni and I both looked at Rachel, and she just smiled sweetly and made a little kissing motion with her sexy lips.

"But just so things aren't too uncomfortable," Miranda continued, "I'll be in another room watching from there.  You won't even know I'm around.  Rachel, would you please take Sarah and Marni to their room."  And with that, she got up and left us sitting at the table staring at each other.

Rachel stood up and smiled again, as she led us from the sunroom and down another hallway that I hadn't seen before.  Marni and I followed a couple of steps behind her, holding hands and feeling the urge to giggle like little girls.  My pussy was quite wet from the under-the-table activity and it was clear that both Marni and I were quite aroused by the hardness of our nipples.

My mind was spinning, thinking back on all those late night masturbation sessions when I listened to Marni pleasure herself as I did the same.  All those feelings of desire and lust began to flood back over me as I remembered just how much I had wanted her . . . and for how long.  I hoped that she was feeling the same about me.  I guess we would find out soon enough.

I wanted to scream at Rachel to hurry up because it seemed to be taking her so long to get us to wherever it was we were going.  But finally, she stopped at a door near the end of the hallway, opened it and simply said, "Enjoy yourselves."  Then she made that cute kissing face again, smiled and left us at the door.  Of course, I couldn't resist having one last lingering look at her cute bottom as she walked back down the hallway.

Before I could turn back toward the door I heard Marni's voice.  "Oh my fucking god!"

And I looked inside the room and saw the reason for her reaction.  It was our room!  From the dorm.  Here in Miranda's house.  In some god-forsaken corner of upstate New York.

There were the twin beds, only a few feet apart.  Twin dressers, desks . . . the whole works.  Even the posters on the walls.  I figured if I looked in the top drawer of Marni's dresser, I'd find her panties, just as they were back at Midwestern State.  But I didn't look because I didn't want to freak out completely.  This was just too weird.  That sexy tingle I'd been feeling in my stomach began to turn into a feeling of apprehension.

I looked blankly at Marni and said, "What the fuck is this?"

"Miranda told me to take some pictures of our room and e-mail them to her."  Her voice was barely above a whisper.  "I'd forgotten all about it until just now."

The blinds were pulled and the light in the room was quite dim.  Actually, the atmosphere was pretty nice for what we were supposed to be doing.  I glanced over at "my" desk and, sure enough, there was a scented candle.  I read the label.   "Cucumber and Cantaloupe," just like back home.  

I thought, "What the heck," and picked up the pack of matches lying beside the candle and lit it.  The sweet scent began to filter through the room, and I began to relax a bit, allowing my mind to anticipate what lay ahead for Marni and me.

Then I noticed something lying on Marni's bed.  But she had seen it, too, and beat me to it.  It was the black double-ended dildo that one of Miranda's staff—probably Rachel—had retrieved form Marni's purse and placed here.  As I looked at Marni holding that incredibly erotic toy, unconsciously running her fingers over the long, think shaft, the tingle was back, and I could feel myself begin to "leak" a little as my nectar began to escape my swollen labia.

Marni's eyes closed as she caressed the cock, and I thought she was probably remembering how she had pleasured herself with it before.  Or was she thinking about how it was going to be for us today?  I hoped it was the latter.

I hated to interrupt her fantasy, but I was eager to get started.  Very eager.  First, I wanted soooo much to experience what I had been dreaming about for so long.  Second, this was to be our final stage in the interview process, and I was ready to get this whole thing over with.  I had been at Miranda Steele's mercy for too long.

"I guess we should get started," I said gently, rousing Marni from her daydream.

"Oh, yeah . . . sure . . . , "   she responded haltingly.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wondering if Marni really felt as excited about this scenario as I was.  "Don't you want to do this?  We don't have to if you don't want.  We can just tell Miranda to get fucked and go home."

"No, Sarah, it's not that.  I told you on the plane that I'd been fantasizing about you for a long time.  It's just . . . you know . . . being watched like this . . . "  Her voice trailed off before she could finish the sentence, but I knew exactly what she meant.  For a moment, the prospect of being watched in such an intimate situation had gone completely out of my mind.

"I don't know what to do, baby, except just try it."  I took her hand and squeezed it.  "If it doesn't work, we can always leave."

As I finished the sentence, I began to move toward "Marni's" bed, where the big black dildo was waiting for us, pulling Marni gently with me.  I tried not to look at the large mirror over the vanity on the far wall because I knew it was probably a two-way mirror and Miranda was sitting there in those goddamned boots watching every move we made.

When we got to the bed, we both sat down, one of us at either end, and just looked at each other for quite a long time.  As I saw Marni there, with her wonderfully full breasts—those large areolas, hard nipples, I felt my arousal returning, then growing.  My gaze lingered on her newly-shaven mound, and I noticed clear evidence of her own arousal. 

And I saw, no felt, her eyes on me, too.  I think I may have blushed a little at the intensity of her gaze.  But it warmed me, too, with the heat radiating outward from the center of my sex, down my legs, up my belly, across my breasts, my face, to the top of my head.  My skin felt as if it was on fire.  I slid my hand across my breasts to see if they actually felt hot to the touch, and I saw Marni begin to touch herself, as well.

We watched each other as our hands played over our breasts, our movements almost mirroring each other.  Marni's back was propped against the wall at the head of the bed, her legs extended fully and slightly parted.  My head was at the other end, and I was propped up on one elbow, my own legs stretched outward toward Marni.

There was no sound in the room, other than our breathing, which was slow and regular at first, but grew faster, shallower, as we continued to caress ourselves, to watch each other, and our arousal grew.

Marni was the first to touch her pussy.  I watched as she slid both hands downward from her breasts, across her firm, flat belly, finally stopping at her mound.  She looked deeply, longingly into my eyes as she put one hand on either side of her opening and used her fingertips to part her swollen lips, revealing to me her moist inner folds and swollen clit.  Then, while she held herself open like that, she allowed the finger of one hand to begin flicking her clitoris ever so lightly.  It was as if that one fingertip was sort of tickling her little pearl.

When she was sure I was watching her, Marni leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.  And she continued to hold herself open like that and stroke her clit with that one fingertip . . . sometimes very rapidly . . . sometimes slowly.  Occasionally, she would dip her fingers inside and draw out more nectar to lubricate the little bud, which was growing before my eyes.




The Scholarship Ch. 05



I tugged and pinched one of my rock-hard nipples with one hand, while the other glided between my legs.  I pulled one leg toward me, placing that foot flat on the bed, while my other leg was still extended toward Marni.  This position had the effect of opening my lips so that Marni could see me fully if she decided to open her eyes, which I, of course, wanted so desperately.  It also made it easy for me to slide two fingers inside my wet, puffy lips, first reaching inside, then moving them upward to find my own swollen clit.

I made slow circles around it as I continued to watch my beautiful roommate touch herself in the most intimate way imaginable.  I had fantasized a lot about this scenario, but this was far beyond any fantasy I could have conjured up.  I had to slow down a little because the combination of watching Marni and pleasuring myself was just about to push me over the edge.  And I so wanted us to cum together.

In just a moment, as I continued to touch myself just enough to hang right on the precipice, Marni opened her eyes.  She looked first at me and smiled a little, then looked over at the nightstand.  I followed her gaze and saw her reach for the double ended dildo that she had laid there.


Making sure I was watching, she raised one end of the long cock to her mouth and began to lick the big black head sensuously.  She pressed it between her lips and sucked, as if she were pleasuring a lover.  But I knew, this performance was for my pleasure, and hers.

She removed the cock from her mouth and licked up and down the thick black shaft until it was shiny with her saliva.  Then she started at the second head and repeated the entire process until the full 18 inches was completely lubricated.

I felt little contractions begin deep inside me as I watched Marni move the head to her wet opening and slide it up and down along the length of her slit.  She continued to slide it up and down her swollen lips, but with each trip she opened herself a little farther, until finally, the big head had disappeared inside.  I watched, not daring to even touch myself now, as she began to move her hips rhythmically and with each movement, draw the shaft deeper.

Finally, when only about half of the cock could still be seen, Marni opened her eyes again and looked deeply into mine.  She released her grip on the shaft and held her arms out to me, as if to invite me to her.  My eyes literally filled with tears at the thought that the moment I had been dreaming of for months had finally come!

I began to scoot up the bed toward Marni so I could scissor my legs between hers and share that beautiful black cock with her.  Her eyes never left mine as I moved closer, as our legs touched for the first time.

But just as I was about the grasp the cock and move it toward my aching pussy, I became aware of the sound of a door, some movement across the room.  Then I heard a voice.  Miranda's voice.

"That will be all, Sarah.  You've completed the second interview and I'm happy to renew your scholarship."

She was standing beside the bed, clad in a floor-length robe made of black silk.  In her hand was a check, which she thrust at me.  "Thank you, Sarah, you may go now."  She took my arm and helped me to my feet.

My mouth was open, but no words would come.  My eyes filled with tears of a different kind this time.  Marni's expression mirrored my own.

"Thank you, Sarah, Rachel will show you back to your room.  Marni and I have one more part of her interview to take care of."  

I felt Rachel take my arm and lead me toward the door.  I looked back over my shoulder just long enough to see Miranda's black robe fall to the floor.  She wore nothing underneath except for her black boots.  As she sat down on the bed next to Marni, Rachel closed the door and led me away.

*********
I don't remember much about the flight back to Springfield, except that Marni did not make it with me.  Rachel told me that she would be staying behind for awhile longer.  

Classes started again the next day and I went through the motions.  But every ounce of emotional energy had been drained from me that weekend at Miranda's and I had no idea when, if ever, I might regain it.

I returned from class late Wednesday afternoon to find that Marni's things had been moved out.  I can't really say that I was surprised.  Nothing Miranda did could surprise me any more, and I supposed that she must have some other plans for Marni.

As I sat there in my half-empty room, I couldn't help but think about what I'd lost over the past few months.  My friend and roommate.  My self-respect.  The sense that I had some control over my life.  And that was just the start of a long list.

But, then, I did get my scholarship.

Epilogue:  When I started writing chapters 4 and 5, I had in mind at least one more adventure for Sarah.  But after struggling for so long to get these chapters written and with the way this one ends, I'm thinking that maybe I should quit torturing poor Sarah and let her enjoy the scholarship that she worked so hard to earn.  But I'd love to hear the thoughts of those of you who have been so generous in reading and commenting on this series.