How to train your fratboy (Ch 8)
The overturned plate of her breakfast leavings having been licked clean, Brad himself was now in ignominious pursuit of her half-eaten piece of toast. His hard-on swung shamefully this way and that as he finally cornered it, spreading his sore knees apart widely to reach it with his arms secured behind his back -- raising and exposing his battered behind lewdly in order to delicately work the bite of discarded bread into his mouth with his lips and tongue.
He was coming along excellently, Sir mused. Way ahead of schedule. She could afford to take her time today, and give the poor thing some honey to go with all that vinegar.
"Do you like my shoes Bradley?" she asked, pondering herself in the mirror.
Too sore to attempt to raise his head just yet, Brad rested his cheek on the floor and looked over at Sir's shiny black high-heels thoughtfully. His first impulse was to compliment his mistress, but seeing how obviously the shoes clashed with her tattered blue-jeans, he suspected it might be a test.
"Your piggy doesn't know much about shoes" he began cautiously
"Well, we'll have to fix that won't we." she looked disapprovingly over her shoulder at him, "Our Piggy needs to have a good fashion aesthetic if he's going to help his mistress don't you think? But go on and give me your uneducated opinion anyway. What does your gut tell you? Should I go out like this?"
"They are very nice Sir, but they don't seem to go with your pants." he confided.
"My sisters call them my fuck-me shoes" she turned back toward the mirror, "but oh, how I adore them. They're my favorite pair, and also my most expensive by far." she turned them this way and that, admiring them in the mirror before walking over to him and placing the stiletto heel of her right shoe a half-inch from his nose. "Do they make you want to fuck me Bradly?" she asked sumptuously.
"Everything about you makes your piggy want to fuck you Sir" He sighed in confession.
"Well in that case I supposed I won't be needing them today will I?" she smiled down at him, pleased. "And you're right, they're far too formal for these jeans. Huh, look at that. Over in this light, I'm noticing that there are a few spots on the front of this one." she angled the shiny squared-tip of it toward his nose. "Do you see those spots right there?"
Brad blinked in mild shock, looking up at her incredulously. She was going to make him lick her expensive fuck-me shoes, he realized. His neck and scalp erupted in gooseflesh at the realization, unable to fully believe it; The Sigma-Nu chapter president was about to lick a sorority girl's shoes clean. She smiled down at him darkly, seeing the comprehension in his eyes.
"mmm, busted." she purred lustily, bringing a finger to her lips, "You know what I'm about to tell you to do, don't you Bradley?" she asked, running the tip of the shoe along the line of his chin.
"uh. Yeah. -yes. Yes sir." he muttered submissively. The thought of it, thoroughly repulsive and massively arousing in equal measure. His mouth began to water in carnal desire as she brought her gritty sole across his nose. They sure smell expensive he thought, ashamed by the erotic flush welling up into his neck.
"And you also know that you're gonna do it too. Don't you?" she knelt down, her knee encountering his temple and weighing into it, grinding his face into the floor and holding it firmly in place. "You're going to obey me Bradley. In just a few seconds, you'll taste the leather of my shoes. And you know what I think? I think you're gonna enjoy it too, you pathetic fucking slut".
"huh. NO Sir!" he squeezed his eyes closed, blushing petulantly beneath her knee -- angry, ashamed, excited, so turned-on.
She smiled, shark-like, feeling the lust course through him. Knowing he wanted to do it every bit as much as he did. A predator smelling blood, her pray pinned, wiggling helpless in fear below her knee. "You can't fool me little piggy. I just have to say it. All I have to do is lift up my knee and say lick my shoes bitch, and you're gonna be all: yes sir uh uh uh" her voice croaked horsely in a mocking impression of him, "and then you're gonna open your pretty pig lips, and run your sloppy pink cunt-pleaser all up and down my lovely Kokana's."
"...please. no sir..."
"Oh yes Bradley. You're gonna make them nice and clean for me. You're gonna lick and slurp and suck, and you aren't gonna stop until I let you. You might be here until noon working every last little piece of grit out of the grooves in my soles with your tongue. And you're going to love every last little second of it. Isn't that right?"
He didn't answer, unable to speak or even open his eyes, the indignity of it -- the truth of it -- overwhelming. I actually fucking want to lick her boots he thought in disbelief; Precum oozing from his traitorous cock at the thought of her fuck-me shoes in his eager mouth.
"isn't that RIGHT?" she asked again, twisting her knee into his temple "tell me you're gonna like it and I'll let you have them"
"... yes sir, I'm.. I'm going to like it" he confessed through his teeth
"Let me ask you something Bradley:" Sir posited not letting her weight off her knee, "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
"wh- what?" he glared at the carpet, not following. "your knee Sir.."
"Bullshit!" She interrupted, reaching down to stroke his chin lovingly beneath her heavy, merciless knee, "I mean a few seconds ago, when you realized that I was going to make you lick my shoes clean." her voice pitched higher in irritation as she put more weight on his temple, "In the moment you realized that your mistress's lovely high-heeled boot was going inside your clit licker, whether you liked it or not. No matter what you did, or said, or how much you begged or cried or bled." her knee came off his temple, her hand clamped on his chin, forcing him to turn his head to look up at her, "In that moment, when you KNEW what your mistress wanted, and you knew that it was inevitable that she would get it.." she shook his chin roughly, "why didn't you just wrap your mouth around my shoes and start sucking? Why did you WAIT to be told like a clueless fucking idiot?" she threw his chin sideways impatiently, bouncing it off the floor. "I thought we taught you better than that."
Fear and guilt welled up in him at Sir's disappointment. Why had he waited? he cursed himself internally. Piggy anticipates his mistresses desire. He knew this. He'd been disobedient again. Tears welled up in his eyes as he wordlessly opened his mouth, forming his lips across the top of his Mistresses designer shoe, the taste of leather and shame pulsing across his tongue as he began to lick and lap the spots out noisily.
"It's OK" she soothed standing up. "I know why you waited, you poor thing. Do you want me to tell you?"
"smack slurp yes sir"
"You waited because you wanted me to make you do it Bradley. You wanted to feel the crack of my whip -- the back of my hand. You want me to make it hurt." she dug around in her make-up bag distractedly
"Bwha" he pouted as he continued his work, tears stinging his eyes. That simply wasn't true. Nobody wanted to be hurt.
"There there," she nodded sympathetically, "I know it's hard to believe, but it's just who you are. It's why we broke you so quickly."
lick smack slurp
Sir turned back to the mirror, uncapping her eyeliner. "You were weak and lost like a puppy in the street. You were looking for a firm hand to put you in your place and hold you there. A mistress to save you. To show you where you belong."
"Sniff slurp" Brad blinked through his tears, trying not to cry on Sir's pretty shoes. Her haunting words weighing even more heavily on him now than this latest act of defilement. His cock throbbed and convulsed as it bumped and rubbed the carpet below his outstretched knees. Still he licked and sucked at her expensive shoes tingling in euphoric humiliation.
tap tap came a light knock at the door, and Brad paused.
"I didn't say stop" Sir admonished him irritably. "YES?"
The door cracked open, and in popped mistress Gina's head. "They're ready Sir" she reported softly, taking Brad in with a hungry gleam in her eye. He couldn't help but picture himself in her eyes, on his knees, naked ass in the air, his arms bound behind his back, slurping noisily at Sir's expensive shoes as she casually worked with an eye-liner pencil in the mirror.
Two weeks ago he'd cornered the athletic co-ed in the hallway outside the girls locker room on her way to soccer practice. He'd put his arm on the wall, blocking her path as she tried to walk by. She'd stopped, obviously not intimidated, and leaned sumptuously against the wall, grinning coyly and biting her lower lip as he flirted clumsily.
He'd asked her to dinner and she'd said we'll see, and that's when he'd leaned in to face her -- close enough to smell her peppermint gum.
"nah" he'd said, drunk on his own idiotic swagger. "I'm not askin. You're gonna have dinner with me, and then I'm gonna show you the night of your young life".
We'll see she'd grinned again playfully, ducking under his arm and escaping into the locker room.
It was an uncharacteristic come-on even for him. Had he sensed something in her? Had he been subconsciously looking for a mistress to dominate him? Had he chosen her to bring him to heel? Because here she was, having fucked him into submission last night, watching openly now with that same coy smile as he eagerly worked her sorority-sister's boot leather clean with his mouth. Tears of shame leaking from his puffy eyes. In the end it was her that had shown him the night of his life.
"Thank you mistress, down in a moment." Sir replied distractedly, not looking over as the door eased shut.
"Tell you what Bradley. How about I prove it to you?"
slurp lick suck "mmph"
"I'll show you that deep down, what you really want is a woman to own you. And you can finally accept what you are and where you belong."
With that she grabbed his leash and lead him downstairs. The house was gathered together in the common room, chatting and laughing. They fell silent as Sir lead him down the stairs, and Brad's heart began to beat loudly in his ears.
"Here piggy piggy" mistress Gina, sitting on the sofa, patted the inside of her thigh as they joined the party, and Sir pushed him to his knees, nudging him in the direction of Gina. Brad pensively crawled over to her, and she situated him on the floor with his back to the sofa, wrapping one long lean leg around his chest and the other over his shoulder as she sat above him. She locked her ankles together over his sternum, squeezing him warmly while queen tifa gave him a friendly rub on his head. It was viscerally wonderful to be held, and Brad felt himself relax more with each breath in Gina's firm embrace as Sir sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the group.
"What's my name?" she asked him, interrupting the pregnant silence.
Brad blinked, unsure what to say, until Mistress Gina gave him an encouraging squeeze and a ticklish whisper on his earlobe, "It's not a trick question"
"Sir?" Brad asked, not believing it could be that simple.
"And hers?" Sir pointed at Mistress Chin
"Mistress Chin" Brad croaked nervously remembering the face fucking she'd given him.
She proceeded around the room, pointing to each Zeta sister in turn, and each time, Brad named the girl, involuntarily reliving the abuse he'd suffered at her hand. Where is she going with this? he wondered nervously.
"How about her Bradley, what's her name?" Sir nodded toward the Red-headed girl with the beautiful chest who emerged from behind the circle toward the Kitchen. She smiled at him warmly but Brad drew a blank. She had been the second sister to own him. The one who had cock-tied and fucked him for 30-minutes straight. He could conjure in his mouth the flavor of her body-lotion and cum, like a soapy mango. The smell of her lovely cunt, like a warm laundromat wrapped in a Tiffany's department store. He would take the image of her beautiful chest heaving above him to his grave. But what was her name?!
"... Lady ..." Brad stammered.
The co-ed smiled wryly, putting her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow expectantly. Somehow she knew he wouldn't remember. They all knew. Why couldn't he remember her name?
"... Lady ..." he began to tremble nervously. What would they do to him if he couldn't remember? he wondered desperately.
"Relax. Focus" Gina's breath tingling on his earlobe.
It began with a C... no a K.. "Lady... Lady Katlin!" he blurted nervously.
"oooohhhh" the whole room groaned excitedly
"Lady Kathrine Piggy" Lady Kathrine smiled at him, shaking her head sadly.
"So close though!" Mistress Gina rubbed his chest sympathetically.
"Why didn't you remember her Brad?" asked Sir, smiling knowingly at him.
"I... I don't know Sir" he stammered, sincerely flummoxed. The others were etched like stone into his memory.
"Well I'll give you a hint" Sir smiled, "Raise your hand if you hurt the piggy last night" she ordered, raising her own hand, along with the rest of the girls in the house. Everyone that was, except Lady Kathrine.
Brad gasped in disbelief, literally feeling dizzy and nauseous at the sight as Sir continued: "aaaand raise your hand if you didn't hurt the piggy last night"
All hands dropped except for Lady Kathrine who raised her hand, smiling warmly at him now. It was true, she hadn't hurt him a bit. She'd brought him nothing but pleasure, well... and frustration to be sure. But not pain, and he'd forgotten her.
He only remembered the girls who hurt him.
"holy shit" he breathed in disbelief. "I DO want to be hurt"
"Yes!" exclaimed Sir as the room erupted in happy applause. Another loving squeeze from Mistress Gina, and happy, caressing hands on his head and shoulders from the other co-eds in arms-length. Their happy contact and support felt indescribably wonderful. A fluttering euphoria billowing out from his heart. Like weaponized true love, covered in chocolate and delivered with a soft passionate kiss.
"That's exactly right Bradly!" Sir nodded as the applause died down. "That's why it feels so good when we hurt you. We all have a place in this world, and yours is there, where you are now, on your knees at your mistresses feet. Obediently kneeling between her legs." Gina squeezed him lovingly again, lacing her fingers into his hair as his cock throbbed in assent.
"It's... it's where I belong" he realized out loud
And it was undeniably true. Hard and tangible. No lofty bit of unsolicited life-wisdom from priest or parent -- no quote from any alleged classic work of literature, poetry or prose had ever rung more true. He had never belonged. Not on the football field, nor the frathouse. Certainly not in the business-school. Not even at home. But here, between Gina's supple, athletic legs, on his knees in the Alpha common room, ready to be used like a good piggy, he felt... centered -- wanted. There really was no other way to articulate it, he belonged here.
"It IS where you belong" Sir agreed, nodding solemnly at him and holding his eyes. "And tomorrow you'll become our piggy forever or leave us forever." she smiled warmly. "Tomorrow is the big day. Your third and last chance. Tomorrow, we'll test your strength against Lady Katherine -- the sister you forgot. The one sister who has yet to grant you the pain you deserve."
The room erupted in elated cheering again as Bradley looked over at Lady Katherine nervously. Her's was the closest door to Sir's he remembered with some trepidation. She winked back at him playfully.
"But that's tomorrow. Today is your day to rest and learn" Sir continued, as Gina unlaced her ankles, her tippy toes encountering the the head of his engorged hard-on, tickling him gently as she smiled playfully down at him, holding her hair away from her face in one hand and pinching his nipple with the other."
"Your Piggy is eager to learn Sir" Brad breathed horsely, looking longingly up at Mistress Gina
"...but he doesn't feel much like resting."
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